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169  SOUTH  MAIN  STREET        ^ 

ATTLESORO,  MA86J  ] 


THE  ROMANCE   OF  OLD 
NEW  ENGLAND   CHURCHES 


Little   Filgrimages    Series 

Among  the  Men  Who  Have  Written 
Famous  Books,  First  Series 
By  E.  F.  Uarkitis 

Among  the  Men  Who  Have  Written 
Famous  Books,  Second  Series 
By  E.  F.  Harkins 

Among     the     Women     Who    Have 

Written  Famous  Books 
By  E.  F.  Harkins  and  C.  H.  L.  Johnston 

Literary  Boston  of  To-Day 
By  Helen  M.  Winsloiv 

The  Romance  of  Old  New  England 
Rooftrees 

By  Mary  C.  Crawford 

The  Romance  of  Old  New  England 
Ch urches 

By  Mary  C.  Crauford 

L.   C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

200  Summer  Street, 
Boston,  Mass. 


DAVID  L.  LOW  ^ 

169  SOUTH  MAIN  STREET  ^^^ 
ATTLEBORO,  MASS. 


THE  REVEKEXD  ARTHLU  BROWNE 

From  the  portrait  by  Copley 

(Seepa(/eS2) 


4^  4^  4^ 


*  ^  ^ 


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Hittk  ^tlgrtmages 

%])t  Romance  of 

autfjot  of 

"  ffi^e  Bomance  of  ©lU  Neto  ffinglantt 

Booftrtea,"  ttc. 

^Uunixnttti 


r|* 


Bodton 

H.  €.  page  $^  (^ommnig 

Mlittttiiii 


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Copyright,  igoj 

by 

L.    G.   Page   y    Company 

(^Incorporated) 

All  rights  res^ved 

Published  August,   ig03 


Colonial  ^rrsa 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Slmonds  &  Co. 

Boston,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


Krterent)  pjjtlo  WaoTixnU  Sprague 

AND 

?^arrictt  SlppUton, 

HIS    WIFK, 

WHO THE    ONE    AS    INSPIRING    PREACHER, 

THE  OTHER  AS  SYMPATHETIC  COMRADE 

HAVE    HELPED    ME    UNSPEAKABLY, 

THIS    BOOK    IS    GRATEFULLY 

INSCRIBED 


Spires  whose  silent  JingefS  point  to  Heaven. 

—  Wordsworth. 

Respect  for  sacred  things  and  sacred  places  is  in- 
separable from  good  breeding.  —  Washington  Irving. 

If  keeping  holy  the  seventh  day  were  only  a  human 
institution,  it  would  be  the  best  method  that  could 
have  been  thought  of  for  the  polishing  and  civilizing 
of  manhind.  Sunday  clears  atvay  the  rust  of  the 
whole  week.  —  Addison. 

Of  right  and  ivrong  he  taught 
Truths  as  refined  as  ever  Athens  heard  ; 
And  (^strange  to  tell  /)  he  practised  u'hat  he  preached. 

—  John  A  rmstrong. 

Puritanism,  believing  itself  quick  with  the  seed  of 
religious  liberty,  laid,  without  knotving  it,  the  egg  of 
democracy.  —  Lowell. 


CONTENTS 


Page 
Foreword  vii 

A  Pre-Revolutionary  Belle  11 

The  Wooing  of  Esther  Edwards  44 

A  Colonial  Friar  Laurence  79 

Courtship  According  to  Samuel  Sewall  99 
John  Eliot  and  His  Indians  130 

Parson  Smith's  Daughter  Abigail  167 

East  Apthorp  and  His  Parish  Troubles  208 
A  Famous  Tory  Wit  and  Divine  243 

When  a  French  Exile  Was  Boston's 

Bishop  260 

The  Lost  Prince  at  Longmeadow  283 

The  Ostracism  of  an  Abolitionist  323 

The  Ideal  Minister  of  the  American 

Gospel  347 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


Page 
The   Reverend  Arthur    Browne  (^See 

page  82^  Frontispiece 

The    present    home    of    the    Second 

Church  in  Hartford  (1825)  14 

The  tablet  over  the  grave  of  Eliza- 
beth Whitman  33 
The  Reverend  Jonathan  Edwards  46 
Old   church   at    Pepperell,   dedicated 

March  8,  1770,  by  Parson  Emerson  60 
Parson    Emerson's   house,    Pepperell, 

Mass.  66 

St.  John's  Church,  Portsmouth,  N.  H. 

(1807).     The  first  church,  built  on 

the  same  site,  was  erected  in  1732  82 
The  Old  South  Church,  Boston,  Mass.  100 
Staircase  in  Coventry  Hall,  York,  Me.  107 
Old   church   on  the   site  where  John 

Eliot  preached  130 

John  Eliot  preaching  to  the  Indians  146 
The  birthplace  of  John  Adams,  Quincy, 

Mass.  170 

The  birthplace  of  John  Quincy  Adams, 

Quincy,  Mass.  174 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 

The  old  stone  temple,  where  the  two 
presidents  and  their  wives  are  buried  206 

Exterior  and  interior  views  of  King's 
Chapel,  Boston,  Mass.  208 

St.  Michael's  Church,  Marblehead, 
Mass.  (1715)  214 

Christ's  Church  and  "The  Bishop's 
Palace,"  Cambridge,  Mass.  220 

The  Reverend  Mather  Byles  244 

St.  Patrick's  Church,  Damariscotta 
Mills,  Me.  (1807).  Church  of  the 
Holy  Cross,  Franklin  St.,  Boston, 
Mass.  (1803).  Two  churches  built 
by  Bishop  Cheverus  260 

Bishop  Cheverus  280 

The  Old  Church  on  the  Green,  Long- 
meadow,  Mass.  283 

Deacon  Ely's  house,  Longmeadow, 
Mass.  286 

The  Dauphin  of  France  (Louis 
XVII.)  =  The  Reverend  Eleazer 
Williams  310 

The  Reverend  Joshua  Young's  church, 
Burlington,  Vt.  323 

John  Brown's  home,  North  Elba,  N.  Y.  326 

The  Reverend  Joshua  Young  332 

John  Brown,  and  his  grave  at  North 
Elba,  N.  Y.  343 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 
The  Reverend  Phillips  Brooks  347 

Old  Trinity  Church,  Summer  Street, 

Boston,  after  the  great  Boston  fire  360 
The  present  Trinity  Church,  Boston, 

Mass.  362 

The  house  on  Clarendon  Street,  where 

Phillips  Brooks  lived  and  died  368 

Interior  view  of  Trinity  Church  370 


FOREWOf^D 

rHIS  little  volume  does  not  offer 
a  history  of  the  old  churches  in 
New  England.  Interesting  and 
valuable  as  such  a  work  would  prove,  far 
be  it  from  me  to  attempt  to  write  it.  Nor 
does  it  seek  to  present  an  account  of  the 
noble  and  enduring  influence  of  that 
splendid  body  of  New  England  clergy 
who,  before  and  during  the  Revolutionary 
War,  rendered  such  signal  service  to 
American  freedom.  Another  and  more 
gifted  pen  would  be  needed  adequately 
to  record  their  glorious  deeds.  The  present 
work  is  much  less  ambitious;  it  merely 
aims  to  give  the  story  side  of  those  old 

vii 


FOREWORD 


meeting-houses  and  ministers  whose  names 
and  aspects  are  more  or  less  familiar  to 
the  general  reader.  If  ministers'  sons  and 
daughters  also  have  a  place  here  it  is 
because  they  were  bound  to  be  in  such 
a  work.  And  if  once  or  twice  space  is 
given  to  churches  and  preachers  who  can- 
not lay  claim  to  even  the  one  hundred  and 
fifty  years  of  life  which  passes  in  this 
country  for  antiquity,  it  is  because  they 
seemed  to  me  really  to  belong  in  the 
narrative. 

My  hope  is  that  the  book,  while  it  re- 
iterates the  well-known  fact  that  early 
New  England  sheltered  under  its  hiunble 
parsonage  roofs  many  of  the  greatest  men 
and  women  our  country  has  produced,  may 
make  clear  as  well  the  truth  that  these 
parsons  were  not  prigs.  It  will  abun- 
dantly have  attained  its  purpose  if  it  shows 
that  colour  and  adventure,  pure  passion 
viii 


FOEEWORD 


and  sweet,  true  love  may  as  often  be  found 
in  the  life  story  of  the  Christian  minister 
as  in  that  of  the  dashing  hero  of  swash- 
buckling romance. 

It  but  remains  to  acknowledge  with 
gratitude  the  help  of  those  many  kind 
friends  from  far  and  near  who  have  aided 
in  the  preparation  of  the  manuscript,  and 
especially  to  thank  Messrs.  Houghton, 
Mifflin  &  Company,  by  permission  of,  and 
special  arrangement  with,  whom  the  selec- 
tions from  the  letters  of  John  and  Abigail 
Adams  are  used..  Also  I  have  to  thank  the 
Reverend  A.  V.  G.  Allen,  who  kindly 
granted  the  privilege  of  here  incorporating 
a  generous  portion  of  the  correspondence 
first  published  in  his  "  Life  and  Letters 
of  Phillips  Brooks." 

I  might  add,  in  explanation  of  the 
change  of  base  which  readers  of  "  The 
Romance  of  Old  New  England  Rooftrees  " 

ix 


FOREWORD 


may  observe  in  the  chapter,  "  The  Lost 
Prince  at  Longmeadow,"  that  another  care- 
ful examination  of  all  the  evidence  has  led 
me  to  change  the  opinion  ventured  in  the 
first  book  concerning  the  validity  of  the 
Reverend  Eleazer  Williams's  claims  to  the 

throne  of  France.  m.  c.  c. 

Charlestown,  Massachusetts,  1903. 


THE 

ROMANCE    OF    OLD    NEW 

ENGLAND  CHURCHES 


A   PRE-REVOLUTIONAKY 
BELLE 

«  This  humble  stone, 

In  memory  of 

Elizabeth  Whitman, 

Is  inscribed  by  her  weeping  friends,  to  whom  she 

Endeared  herself 

By  uncommon  tenderness  and  affection. 

Endowed  with   superior    acquirements,  she  was 

Still  more  distinguished 

By  humility  and  benevolence. 

Let  candour  throw  a  veil  over  her  frailties,  for 

Great  was  het  charity  to  others. 

11 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

She  sustained  the  last  painful  scene 

Far  from  every  friend, 

And  exhibited  an  example  of  calm  resignation. 

Her  departure  was  on  the  25th  of  July,  1788, 

In  the  37th  year  of  her  age. 

The  tears  of  strangers  watered  her  grave." 

^^NE  could  scarcely  find  a  romance 
I  J  more  inextricably  interwoven  with 
the  lives  of  eighteenth-century  New 
England  ministers  than  that  of  the  woman 
to  whom  this  stone  still  stands  (though 
sadly  worn)  in  the  old  burying-ground  at 
Peabody,  near  Salem.  A  mystery  for  many 
years,  the  inscription  —  and  the  traditions 
to  which  it  gave  rise  —  is  believed  by  many 
to  have  furnished  Hawthorne  with  the  in- 
spiration for  the  central  character  in  his 
"  Scarlet  Letter."  Only  within  the  last 
dozen  or  so  years  have  we  come  to  know 
quite  certainly  that  the  heroine  of  the 
suggestive  tablet  was  the  daughter  of  a 
well-known  Hartford  clergyman,  and  8 
12 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

descendant  through  her  mother  from  that 
Stanley  renowned  as  the  friend  of  William 
Shakespeare. 

In  a  novel  called  "  The  Coquette,"  first 
published  in  1800,  by  Mrs.  Hannah  Foster, 
wife  of  a  minister  at  Brighton,  Massachu- 
setts, the  facts  of  Elizabeth  Whitman's 
curiously  checkered  career  were  so  enter- 
tainingly distorted,  and  the  character  of 
the  heroine,  called  "Eliza  Wharton" 
throughout  the  book,  so  maliciously  mis- 
represented, that  the  novel  ran  through 
endless  editions,  and  was  in  its  day  second 
only  in  interest  to  the  well-known  stories 
of  "  Clarissa  Harlowe  "  and  "  Charlotte 
Temple."  In  style  the  three  books  are  in- 
deed very  similar,  and  the  character  of  the 
seducer  of  "  Eliza  Wharton  "  is  undoubt- 
edly modelled  upon  that  of  the  Lovelace  in 
Richardson's  novel.  But  the  book,  as  has 
been  said,  is  notoriously  careless  of  the 

13 


OLD   Is^EW  ENGLAND   CHURCHES 

facts  in  Elizabeth  Whitman's  life,  and  its 
author,  though  a  kinswoman  of  the  girl 
whose  sad  story  she  essays  to  tell,  has  put 
the  worst  possible  construction  upon  every 
incident  in  a  career  which,  full  to  the  brim 
as  it  is  of  mystery,  one  yet  cannot  examine 
and  believe  sinful. 

On  her  mother's  side,  as  already  stated, 
Elizabeth  Whitman  was  akin  to  Thomas 
Stanley,  who,  when  he  came  to  Hartford 
in  1636,  brought  with  him  some  curious 
old  Stanley  silver  and  the  tradition  that 
he  was  a  descendant  of  Shakespeare's 
friend.  This  Stanley  rose  to  be  one  of  the 
governor's  assistants.  And  it  was  his 
great-grandson,  Nathaniel  Stanley,  treas- 
urer of  the  Colony  of  Connecticut,  who,  in 
1750,  gave  his  daughter  Abigail  in  mar- 
riage at  Hartford  to  the  Reverend  El- 
nathan  Whitman,  pastor  of  the  Second 
Church,  and  one  of  the  fellows  of  the  Cor- 
14 


THK     J'KKsKNl      HOMK    ( )  1 '     THE    SKCONO    CUirKCH    IN 
HARTFOKI)     (1825) 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

poration  of  Yale  College,  —  a  man  dis- 
tinguished for  scholarly  traits,  the  love 
of  rare  manuscripts  and  forgotten  books, 
and  whose  library  at  the  time  of  its  de- 
struction in  1831  had  been  for  years  the 
envy  of  our  large  universities. 

Thus  Elizabeth  Whitman,  inheriting  all 
the  grace  and  culture  of  the  Stanley  blood, 
was  born  into  the  best  society  of  her  State 
and  time.  Her  mother  was  a  woman  of 
rare  intelligence,  and  of  great  beauty,  her 
father  a  man  of  prominent  and  significant 
character ;  and  his  family  was  not  of  mean 
origin,  for  Trumbull,  the  poet,  Wadsworth, 
the  wealthy  benefactor  of  Hartford,  Jona- 
than Edwards,  the  distinguished  theolo- 
gian, and  Joseph  Buckminster,  afterward 
renowned  as  a  Puritan  preacher  of  parts, 
were  all  his  kin. 

Very  early  Elizabeth,  being  beautiful, 
lively,  and  intelligent,  attracted  to  her  side 

15 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

the  most  distinguished  youths  of  the  col- 
lege and  the  State.  She  attended  the  Hart- 
ford Dancing  Assembly  —  whose  routs 
began  at  6  p.  m.  —  and  was  a  belle  in 
every  sense  of  the  word.  Her  first  accepted 
lover  was  the  Reverend  Joseph  Howe,  of 
Church  Green  in  Boston,  a  young  man 
of  rare  talents,  who  had  been  driven  from 
his  charge  in  Massachusetts  by  the  out- 
break of  the  Revolution,  and  had  taken 
refuge  with  a  party  of  friends  at  Norwich, 
Connecticut.  Here  his  health  failed,  and 
as  the  state  of  Boston  made  it  impossible 
for  him  to  return,  Elizabeth's  father  in- 
vited him  to  Hartford.  At  once  he  pro- 
ceeded to  fall  in  love  with  the  beautiful 
daughter  of  the  house.  The  match  seems, 
however,  to  have  been  made  more  by  the 
parents  of  the  young  lady  than  by  her  own 
wish.  But  when  her  lover's  never  vigorous 
health  gave  way  under  the  rigours  of  a 
16 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

New  England  winter,  she  nursed  him  with 
tenderness,  and  for  some  time  after  his 
death  mourned  him  sincerely. 

A  far  more  serious  grief  to  her  was  her 
father's  death,  which  soon  followed,  and 
which  entailed  for  the  three  daughters  and 
the  one  young  son  of  the  house  considerable 
deprivation  on  account  of  poverty.  The 
family  should  have  been  wealthy,  but 
William  Stanley,  Mrs.  Whitman's  brother, 
had  been  persuaded  to  leave  his  large 
property  to  the  Second  Church,  and  so  it 
came  to  pass  that  the  wife  and  children 
of  the  old  minister  were  seriously  em- 
barrassed by  the  loss  of  their  father's 
salary. 

It  was  perhaps  for  this  reason  that 
Elizabeth  was  again  urged  to  marry,  and 
soon  became  the  betrothed  of  her  cousin, 
the  Reverend  Joseph  Buckminster,  whose 
name  and  memory  is  an  illuminated  page 

17 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUKCHES 

in  the  history  of  New  England  Congrega- 
tionalism. Young  Buekminster  was  born  at 
Rutland,  Massachusetts,  in  1751.  He  was 
the  son  of  a  Puritan  clergyman  and  of  a 
Puritan  clergyman's  daughter.  Even  in 
youth  the  tenets  of  Calvinism  seemed  to 
him  of  all-absorbing  interest,  and  while 
an  undergraduate  at  Yale  College,  —  a 
stage  of  life  usually  given  to  lighter  mat- 
ters, —  he  experienced  "  conversion  "  of 
the  most  thoroughgoing  and  soul-trying 
type. 

Certainly  a  man  of  this  mould  could 
have  had  little  in  his  nature  to  attract  the 
love  of  so  high-strung  and  ardent  a  maiden 
as  Elizabeth  Whitman.  But  she  met  him 
soon  after  her  father's  death,  while  on  a 
visit  to  the  family  of  the  president  of  Yale 
College,  and  he  pleaded  his  suit  with  all 
the  earnestness  of  a  deeply  sincere  nature. 
The  result  was  that  she  made  up  her  mind 
18 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

to  accept  his  hand  in  spite  of  many  friends 
who  counselled  her  against  the  step.  Buck- 
minster  was  a  teacher  at  YaJe  at  this  time, 
—  he  had  been  graduated  in  1770,  —  and 
the  companion,  though  he  could  scarcely 
have  been  tlie  friend,  of  Aaron  Burr  and 
Pierrepont  Edwards,  both  of  whom  were 
connections  of  the  fair  Elizabeth.  Pos- 
sibly it  was  the  very  goodness  of  Buck- 
minster,  strongly  contrasted  as  it  must 
have  been  with  the  lives  of  these  others, 
that  drew  from  the  minister's  daughter 
that  sweet  aifection  she  undoubtedly  gave 
him. 

Unfortunately,  however,  there  was 
deeply  seated  in  this  man's  nature  a  ter- 
rible tendency  to  hypochondria,  from 
which  any  girl  of  healthful  and  cheerful 
disposition  might  well  shrink.  That  Eliza- 
beth Whitman  was  repelled  by  this  trait  in 
her  lover  there  is  small  doubt.    Moreover, 

19 


OLD   NEW   EXGLA^^I)   CHURCHES 

she  must  have  felt  that  marriage  with  him 
would  bind  her  to  a  narrow  field  of  duty 
and  demand  of  her  a  degi*ee  of  self-remm- 
ciation  quite  fatal  to  her  best  develop- 
ment. In  those  days  marriage  with  a 
strong  man  from  whom  one  differed  in 
one's  views  of  things  always  meant  that 
the  wife's  personality  must  perish. 

It  was  while  discussing  the  pros  and  cons 
of  this  alliance  with  Pierrepont  Edwards, 
her  cousin,  —  a  man  whose  personal  char- 
acter was,  however,  as  far  as  possible  re- 
moved from  that  of  his  distinguished 
father,  Jonathan  Edwards,  the  theologian, 
—  that  Mr.  Buckminster  one  summer's 
afternoon  surprised  Elizabeth  in  the  arbour 
of  the  house  at  New  Haven  where  she  was 
staying  as  guest,  and  dealt  her  an  unmanly 
blow.  The  tutor  had  come  for  his  final 
answer,  and  finding  his  fiancee  in  confi- 
dential intercourse  with  a  man  whom  he 
20 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

hated  and  distrusted,  lie  retreated  in  a  fit 
of  terrible  anger  but  without  speaking  a 
single  word. 

After  waiting  a  reasonable  time  Eliza- 
beth wrote  to  Mr.  Buckminster,  who  seems 
in  the  meantime  to  have  accepted  a  call  to 
Portsmouth,  N.  H.,  to  tell  him  the  subject 
of  her  conversation  with  her  cousin  on  that 
fateful  day.  And  she  added  that  she  had 
intended  her  answer  to  his  suit  to  be 
"  Yes."  The  minister's  reply  was  the 
announcement  of  his  approaching  marriage 
to  the  daughter  of  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Stevens,  of  Kittery,  near  Portsmouth. 
Naturally  Elizabeth  said  no  more. 

Buclaninster  was  in  1779  ordained 
clergyman  of  the  North  Church  in  the  old 
town  by  the  sea.  There,  three  years  later, 
he  brought  home  his  wife,  and  May  26, 
1784,  his  first  son  —  a  brilliant  lad  even 
in    his    early    youth  —  was    bom.      Mrs. 

21 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

Buckminster  appears  to  have  been  a  ladj 
of  very  elegant  and  cultivated  mind,  but 
she  died  when  her  child  was  very  young 
and  so  disappears  from  view. 

No  such  peaceful  end  was,  however,  to 
crown  Elizabeth  Whitman's  life.  On  the 
contrary,  this  flower  of  our  Revolutionary 
New  England  was  to  be  ruthlessly  tram- 
pled upon  by  a  fate  which  has  visited  few 
other  women  so  harshly.  Not  that  the  loss 
of  her  lovers  was  a  blow  from  which  her 
buoyant  nature  could  not  recover.  Her 
letters  at  this  period  of  her  life  are  those 
of  a  light-hearted,  fanciful,  and  altogether 
healthful  woman.  One  dated  May  10, 
1779,  —  the  year  of  Buckminster's  heart- 
less desertion,  and  addressed  to  a  young 
poet  friend,  —  reads  as  follows :  "  I 
have  spent  the  evening  in  company  before 
walking  half  a  mile.  It  is  now  one 
o'clock.  Judge,  then,  if  I  can  pretend  to 
22 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

find  fault  with  you  at  present?  No, 
really:  I  am  too  tired  and  too  good- 
humoured;  but  for  your  encouragement 
I  will  tell  you  that  I  have  a  sheet  full  of 
hints  and  sketches  in  that  way  which  I 
have  taken  down  when  I  felt  most  disposed 
to  be  severe,  and  I  intend  to  work  them 
into  a  sort  of  satire  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity." [She  herself  wrote  good  verse.] 
"  I  heard  last  night  from  Mr.  Dwight  that 
he  will  soon  take  a  journey  to  camp.  He 
will  certainly  either  go  or  return  by  way 
of  New  Haven,  so  you  will  be  able  to 
consult  him  yourself.  I  fervently  wish 
you  may,  for  I  know  of  no  person  so  capa- 
ble of  advising  you.  I  shall  depend  upon 
seeing  you  before  you  set  out  on  your 
tour."  The  "  Mr.  Dwight  "  so  pleasantly 
referred  to  here  was  the  honoured  presi- 
dent of  Yale,  busy  about  this  time  in  alter- 
ing Watts's  Hymns  with  Joel  Barlow,  the 

23 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

good   friend  to   whom  this   letter  is   ad- 
dressed. 

This  young  man  was  the  husband  of 
Ruth  Baldwin,  with  whom  Elizabeth  had 
recently  been  on  a  visit.  The  only  authen- 
tic Elizabeth  Whitman  letters  in  existence 
are  those  merely  friendly  ones  addressed 
to  the  Barlows  during  this  period  of  our 
heroine's  life,  between  her  twenty-ninth 
and  thirty-second  year.  She  had  firet  met 
Joel  Barlow  and  Ruth  Baldwin,  to  whom 
the  poet  was  even  then  engaged  to  be  mar- 
ried, at  a  Christmas  party  in  New  Haven 
in  1778.  At  a  game  of  forfeits,  Joel  and 
Elizabeth  were  ordered  to  play  the  part 
of  man  and  wife  for  the  whole  evening. 
This  game  they  carried  out  with  great 
spirit,  adopting  the  nine  Muses  as  their 
children.  Melpomene,  Barlow's  favourite 
because  he  was  already  well-knoAATi  as  a 
poet,  is  caricatured  in  the  correspondence 
24 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

which  followed  between  the  two  friends  as 
"  Quammeny,"  and  his  wife  is  constantly 
called  in  the  letters  his  "  second  wife,"  a 
playful  allusion  on  Elizabeth  Whitman's 
part  to  the  Christmas  party  game. 

Because  of  his  jioverty  young  Barlow 
had  not  been  welcomed  as  a  suitor  by  his 
bride's  family,  and  the  result  of  this  was 
that  he  married  Miss  Baldwin  while  she 
was  away  upon  a  visit,  an  offence  which 
remained  for  many  years  unforgiven  by 
the  Baldwins.  In  this  unpleasantness  the 
pair  had  the  keenest  sympathy  and  interest 
of  Elizabeth  Whitman,  and  at  the  very 
time  when  she  was  supposed  to  be  broken- 
heartedly  lamenting  Buckminster's  deser- 
tion, she  was  really  interesting  herself 
in  the  crockery  and  furniture  of  the  Bar- 
low establishment.  The  letters  that  tell 
us  this  were  discovered  long  after  both 
Barlow  and  Elizabeth  had  passed  away, 

25 


OLD   NEW   EIs^GLAND   CHURCHES 

tied  together  in  a  packet  labelled  "  Bessie 
Whitman's  Letters  "  in  the  handwriting 
of  her  correspondent,  by  Mrs.  Caroline  H. 
Dall,  a  distant  cousin  of  Elizabeth  Whit- 
man, and  the  one  writer  who  has  inter- 
ested herself  in  defending  the  fair  fame 
of  the  beautiful  girl.^ 

The  Barlows  never  had  any  children, 
but  Mrs.  Barlow  ultimately  adopted  as  her 
own  her  stepsister,  twenty  years  younger 
than  herself,  —  an  exquisite  creature  who 
enjoyed  the  distinction  of  being  sought  in 
marriage  by  General  Lafayette. 

It  is  at  the  next  stage  of  the  story  that 
the  real  tragedy  of  Elizabeth  Whitman's 
life  begins  to  dawn.  She  has  now  reached 
the  age  of  thirty-six,  and,  so  far  as  her 
friends  and  family  know,  she  is  still  un- 
married.    Yet  in  the  background  of  her 

'See  "The  Romance  of  the  Association,"  by 
Mrs.  Dall. 

26 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

life  hovered  an  unknown  man.  That  she 
had  linked  her  fate  to  that  of  some  one 
who  hesitated  to  acknowledge  her  publicly 
is  the  only  charitable  solution  of  her  story's 
mystery.  Mrs.  Dall  believes  that  her  life 
had  been  joined  to  that  of  a  French  officer 
—  probably  a  man  of  rank  —  stationed  at 
Newport,  and  that  the  records  of  the  mar- 
riage, performed  by  a  Catholic  priest,  per- 
ished long  ago  in  fire.  But  of  this  Eliz- 
abeth's kindred  and  friends  knew  nothing. 
And  the  neighbours  made  unpleasant  re- 
marks. One  visitor,  her  cousin,  Jeremiah 
Wadsworth,  was  often  seen  about  this  time 
leaving  her  society  at  what  was  called  "  un- 
seemly hours,"  and  in  May,  1788,  she  was 
reported  to  have  changed  at  the  bank  a 
large  quantity  of  foreign  gold.  To  add 
to  the  murkiness  of  the  situation  her  health 
faltered,  and  her  spirits  were  often  sadly 
depressed. 

27 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

Then  there  came  from  Mrs.  Henry  Hill, 
of  Boston,  an  invitation  to  visit  her,  which, 
in  view  of  Elizabeth's  debility  and  the  com- 
ments of  the  gossips,  was  very  eagerly  ac- 
cepted. So  at  midday  in  the  spring  of 
1788  the  still  beautiful  young  woman  left 
her  home  for  what  proved  to  be  forever. 
But  the  stage-coach  did  not  carry  her  to 
her  friend's  house,  as  her  people  believed 
it  would.  That  she  took  this  conveyance 
has  always  been  known,  but  where  she  left 
it  has  remained  a  mystery.  In  a  letter 
just  received  from  Mrs.  Dall  I  have,  how- 
ever, learned  that  Elizabeth  Whitman's 
alighting-place  was  at  Killingly,  forty- 
seven  miles  east  of  her  Hartford  home. 
There  she  told  her  story  to  Mr.  Howe,  the 
clergyman  of  the  place,  —  the  brother  of 
that  Reverend  Joseph  Howe  to  whom  she 
had  once  been  engaged  and  whom  she  had 
tenderly  nursed  until  death  claimed  him. 
28 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

Both  Mr.  Howe  and  his  wife  were  friends 
of  Elizabeth's  dead  father,  and  they  were 
very  glad  indeed  to  aid  her  in  her  sad 
predicament.  She  undoubtedly  convinced 
them  that  it  was  necessary  to  keep  her 
marriage  secret.  And  so  loyal  were  they 
to  their  promise  then  made  to  her,  that 
only  at  this  late  day,  more  than  one  hun- 
dred years  afterward,  does  the  fact  of  her 
visit  come  out,  told  to  Mrs.  Dall  by  their 
own  granddaughter,  and  by  Mrs.  Dall  — 
herself  an  old  lady  now  —  passed  over  to 
me.  But  Elizabeth  could  not  stop  at  Kil- 
lingly.  She  must  hasten  on  to  the  sleepy 
little  town  of  Danvers,  which  was  to  wit- 
ness the  tragic  last  act  of  her  life.  Appar- 
ently she  had  arranged  to  meet  her  hus- 
band at  this  obscure  place. 

We  have  long  known  that  it  was  from 
Watertown  that  our  heroine  drove  in  a 
hired  vehicle  to  Danvers.   How  she  reached 

29 


OLD  NEW  EIs^GLAND   CHUECHES 

Watertown  was  not  so  clear.  But  it  is 
now  divulged  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Howe 
drove  her  in  their  own  carriage  so  far  on 
her  way,  a  touching  service  indeed  for  these 
good  Connecticut  folk  to  render  a  forlorn 
woman  who,  save  for  death,  had  been  their 
sister. 

It  was  a  bright  June  day  in  1788  which 
brought  to  the  old  Bell  Tavern  in  Danvers 
a  sweet  and  gracious  woman  who  registered 
as  Mrs.  Walker  and  said  she  would  stay 
until  her  husband  came.  And  then  the 
weeks  went  by  as  Elizabeth  Whitman 
waited.  Meanwhile  Mrs.  Hill  watched 
anxiously  for  a  guest  who  did  not  come, 
and  down  in  Hartford  the  poor  widowed 
mother  patiently  endured  the  anguish  of 
her  child's  disappearance  and  the  scandal 
that  people  insisted  on  making  out  of  it. 

Gentle  and  graceful  in  all  that  she  did, 
the  stranger  was  soon  the  admired  of  all 
30 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

admirers  in  the  little  village.  She  would 
sit  at  the  south  window  of  her  chamber  for 
days  at  a  time  watching,  ever  watching, 
for  some  one  who  came  not,  whiling  away 
the  long  hours  of  the  languorous  summer 
mornings  with  the  guitar  and  her  indus- 
trious needle.  Some  of  that  wondrous  skill 
in  sewing  which  Hawthorne  makes  one  of 
the  attributes  of  Hester  Prynne,  the  lady 
of  the  Bell  Tavern  certainly  possessed. 
And  this  skill  in  needlework,  together  with 
her  pleasing  ways,  soon  made  her  a  favour- 
ite with  the  women  of  the  town,  who, 
though  they  were  of  the  strict  Puritanical 
type  and  faith,  sympathized  deeply  with 
her  as  she  posted  and  received  letters  from 
one  she  called  her  husband  and  fashioned 
dainty  little  garments  with  her  clever 
needle.  But  she  kept  forever  locked  in 
her  heart  whatever  tale  she  might  have 
told. 

31 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

Erequently  she  walked  from  her  lodgings 
to  the  tranquil  Peabody  graveyard  to  muse 
and  silently  weep.  And  the  weeks  slipped 
into  months.  Then  one  day  Elizabeth 
wrote  with  chalk  the  letters  E.  W.  before 
the  door  of  the  inn,  but  these  were  erased 
by  some  children  playing  there  during  the 
afternoon.  At  dusk  a  soldierly-looking 
man  rode  by,  studied  the  door,  and,  failing 
to  note  the  erased  chalk-marks,  passed  on. 
As  he  turned  a  distant  corner,  Elizabeth 
caught  sight  of  him,  and,  crying,  "  I  am 
undone,"  fainted. 

A  few  days  later  she  died  of  consump- 
tion, into  which  she  had  lapsed  after  the 
birth  of  a  dead  child.  When  asked  on  her 
death-bed  if  her  friends  might  not  be  sent 
for,  she  replied  that  she  should  soon  go 
to  them.  Privately,  however,  she  added 
to  one  who  waited  on  her  that  her  death 
was  wisely  ordered  and  was  the  easiest 
32 


'r^^v^ '  '^a^.  •^  ■-.>r^>:- 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

solution  of  many  problems.  She  insisted 
that  her  wedding-ring  he  hnried  with  her, 
and  died  expressing  a  living  trust  in  God's 
love  and  mercy.  It  was  only  by  a  brief 
paragraph  in  the  Boston  Chronicle  that  her 
friends  and  family  learned  of  her  sad  and 
obscure  end. 

Her  funeral  was  the  largest  that  had 
ever  occurred  in  the  town,  the  Danvers 
villagers  turning  out  in  great  numbers  for 
the  ceremony.  She  was  tenderly  laid  to 
rest  in  the  beautiful  burying-ground  she 
had  so  often  visited,  and  a  few  weeks  after 
her  death  an  unknown  man  erected  over 
her  grave  a  sandstone  tablet  bearing  the 
inscription  we  have  given.  And  year  after 
year  a  mysterious  lady  and  gentleman  used 
to  come  regularly  to  Danvers,  leave  their 
horse  at  the  tavern  to  be  cared  for,  walk 
to  the  grave,  stay  there  for  awhile,  return 
to  the  tavern  to  dine,  and  then  go  away 

33 


OLD  NEW  EIsTGLAND   CHURCHES 

as  quietly  and  mysteriously  as  they  had 
come.  Every  year  at  the  same  time  they 
appeared,  growing  older  and  sadder  each 
season  till  both  were  white-haired  and  bent. 
The  villagers,  though  extremely  curious 
about  these  sad  pilgrims,  never  knew  who 
they  were,  for  they  gave  no  name  and  no 
one  thought  of  demanding  one.  Subse- 
quently, however,  it  developed  that  they 
were  Elizabeth's  sister  Abigail  and  that 
young  brother  of  whom  the  dead  woman 
had  once  written  thus  affectionately  to 
Mr.  Barlow: 

"  Do  you  know,  I  think  my  brother  im- 
proves greatly  under  your  auspices?  Let 
me  bespeak  your  kind  attention  to  him. 
Form  his  taste,  if  you  can,  to  those  things 
you  yourself  admire,  to  books  and  study. 
Besides,  the  improving  of  these  afford 
rational  amusement  to  the  mind.  These 
are  safe  pleasures ;  but,  oh,  what  deceitful 
34 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

ones  lurk  in  the  world  to  catch  the  unwary  ! 
My  poor  boy  will  be  particularly  disposed 
to  be  led  astray  by  these,  unless  his  friends 
protect  him.  He  is  uncommonly  influenced 
by  the  company  he  keeps."  Surely  no 
grown  woman  who  would  write  in  this 
noble  strain  of  a  young  brother  could  her- 
self have  fallen  into  evil  ways  as  do  "  the 
unwary."  This  "  young  brother "  was 
known  in  his  later  years  as  an  antiquarian, 
an  habitue  of  the  Hartford  Athenaeum. 
His  sister's  tragic  death  had  sobered  his 
gay  spirits,  for  it  dealt  him  a  blow  from 
which  he  could  never  recover.  Abigail 
lived  to  extreme  old  age  and  never  married. 
All  that  is  really  knowm  of  Elizabeth 
Whitman's  life  has  now  been  carefully 
told.  But  in  the  story,  "  Eliza  Wharton ; 
or,  The  Coquette,"  we  have  what  has  come 
to  be  regarded  as  her  history.  The  book 
was  published  soon  after  the  last  act  of  the 

35 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

tragedy  it  is  supposed  to  rehearse  had  been 
played  out,  and  an  utterly  specious  value 
given  to  its  disclosures  by  the  fact  that  it 
was  written  by  the  wife  of  Elizabeth's 
cousin.  In  the  book  Elizabeth,  or  Eliza, 
as  we  must  now  call  her,  is  represented  as 
a  provincial  belle,  weary  of  the  restraints 
of  poverty  and  of  the  narrow  parsonage 
life  to  which  she  had  been  born.  After 
the  death  of  her  first  lover,  Mr.  Howe,  — 
which  is  made  to  follow  that  of  her  father, 
though  it  really  preceded  it,  —  she  is  sent 
to  New  Haven  in  search  of  gaiety  and  di- 
version. Here  it  is  that  she  is  made  to 
meet  for  the  first  time  "  Major  Sanford." 
He,  the  "  villain  "  of  the  story,  is  readily 
recognized  as  Elizabeth  Whitman's  cousin, 
Pierrepont  Edwards.  What  the  scandal- 
mongering  public,  which  seized  eagerly 
upon  countless  editions  of  this  crudely  sen- 
sational novel,  quite  failed  to  realize  as 
36 


OLD   NEW  ENGLAIS^D   CHURCHES 

they  read  the  story,  was  that  Elizabeth  had 
known  her  cousin  as  a  family  man  ever 
since  he  was  nineteen,  —  some  eighteen 
years.  So  any  such  deception  as  the  book 
elaborates  would  have  been  quite  impossi- 
ble. 

In  the  story  the  heroine's  inquiries  into 
"  Sanford's  "  habits  and  character  pique 
him  into  a  desire  to  work  her  undoing.  He 
therefore  makes  desperate  love  to  her,  and 
in  the  midst  of  his  courtship  marries  an- 
other woman  for  money,  and,  when  mar- 
ried, moves  into  Eliza's  neighbourhood  for 
the  express  purpose  of  insulting  her  with 
his  attentions. 

"  The  Coquette "  version  has  it  that 
Eliza  ultimately  fell  victim  to  the  passion 
of  this  cousin,  and  so  places  upon  the  jeal- 
ousy of  Buckminster  the  worst  possible 
construction.  After  her  fiance's  surrender 
of  her,  Eliza  is  —  in  the  novel  —  plunged 

37 


OLD  XEW  ENGLAXD  CHURCHES 

into  dejection  and  despair,  and  her  letters 
—  in  the  novel  —  are  made  to  show  her, 
at  this  time,  full  of  terrible  self-reproach. 
At  that  very  moment,  however,  she  was  in 
reality  cheerful  and  light-hearted,  as  we 
have  seen  from  the  correspondence  with 
her  friend  Mr.  Barlow. 

As  the  day  of  her  fatal  departure  draws 
near,  the  novel  represents  her  confessing 
her  guilt,  confiding  in  her  friend,  and  writ- 
ing to  her  mother.  But  no  confession 
passed  her  lips,  and  no  confidence,  of  which 
we  know,  was  ever  given.  Concerning  her 
departure,  too,  the  book  is  maliciously  un- 
truthful, for  it  represents  her  as  carried 
away  at  night  by  her  seducer,  unknown  to 
those  who  loved  her,  when,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  she  went  off  in  the  regular  stage- 
coach at  high  noon  with  everybody's  warm 
approval. 

This  whole  story  might,  indeed,  have 
38 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

been  written  by  a  Boccaccio  without  genius, 
so  sentimental,  heated,  and  unsavoury  is 
its  general  tone.  The  letters  from  the  vil- 
lain to  the  heroine  whom  he  is  tempting 
are  modelled  very  closely  upon  those  of 
Lovelace,  and  Buckminster  (called  "  Mr. 
Boyer  "  in  the  book),  the  very  last  person 
on  earth  to  delight  in  sentimental  talk  and 
to  countenance  the  intrigues  with  which  he 
is  associated,  is  drawn  an  overbearing  as 
well  as  an  underbred  prig. 

Just  here  it  is  interesting  to  learn  of 
the  fashion  in  which  this  so-called 
"  wronged  lover  "  really  received  the  book 
that  would  have  defended  him.  An  old 
lady,  who  was  his  parishioner  in  Ports- 
mouth, is  responsible  for  the  statement  that 
the  minister  would  never  allow  anybody  to 
blame  Elizabeth  Whitman  in  his  presence. 
"  I  can  tell  you,  too,"  she  said  once  to 
Mrs.  Call,  "  what  happened  in  this  very 

39 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 


room.  Just  after  the  book  was  published, 
Mr.  Buckminster  came  to  call  on  my 
mother.  She  was  not  quite  ready  to  re- 
ceive him,  and  probably  forgot  that  a  fresh 
copy  of  the  novel,  just  arrived  from  Bos- 
ton, lay  upon  the  table. 

"  When  she  came  down,  she  found  the 
doctor  thrusting  something  under  the  coals 
upon  the  hearth.  As  he  turned  round  to 
greet  her  with  flaming  eyes,  she  saw  some 
leather  covers  curling  in  the  blaze. 
'  Madam,'  said  he,  pointing  to  the  spot, 
'  there  lies  your  book.  It  ought  never  to 
have  been  written,  and  it  shall  never  be 
read,  —  at  least,  not  in  my  parish.  Bid 
the  ladies  take  notice,  wherever  I  find  a 
copy  I  shall  treat  it  in  the  same  way,'  and 
so  saying,  he  stalked  out  of  the  room." 

Elizabeth  Whitman's  effects,  carefully 
examined  after  her  death,  failed  utterly 
to  throw  any  light  upon  the  unknown  hus- 
40 


OLD  IS^EW   EXGLAT\TD   GHUKCHES 

band  for  whom  she  was  supposed  to  be 
waiting  in  the  old  Bell  Tavern.  But  this 
letter,  written  when  she  was  near  her  end, 
gives  us  a  hint  of  her  distraught  state  of 
mind,  in  which,  however,  there  was  still 
womanly  forgiveness.  "  Must  I  die  alone  ? 
Shall  I  never  see  you  more  ?  I  know  that 
you  will  come,  but  you  will  come  too  late. 
This,  I  fear,  is  my  last  ability.  Tears  fall 
so  fast  I  know  not  how  to  write.  Why 
did  you  leave  me  in  such  distress  ?  But  I 
will  not  reproach  you.  All  that  was  dear 
I  forsook  for  you,  but  do  not  regret  it. 
May  God  forgive  in  both  what  was  amiss. 
When  I  go  from  here,  I  will  leave  you 
some  way  to  find  me.  If  I  die,  will  you 
come  and  drop  a  tear  over  my  grave  ?  " 

Some  verses,  written  about  the  same 
time,  conclude  with  this  quatrain,  her 
swan-song : 


41 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUKCHES 

'<  Oh,  thou,  for  whose  dear  sake  I  bear 
A  doom  so  dreadful,  so  severe, 
May  happy  fates  thy  footsteps  guide, 
And  o'er  thy  peaceful  home  preside." 


Thus  we  leave  the  story  of  Elizabeth 
Whitman.  Though  many  people  have 
searched,  none  have  been  able  to  find  — 
even  in  the  course  of  a  century  during 
which  hundreds  of  old  attics  have  yielded 
up  long-hidden  secrets  —  any  further 
papers  bearing  upon  the  facts  of  her 
strange  fate.  The  identity  of  the  unknown 
man  still  remains  a  haunting  literary  mys- 
tery. Many  there  are  who  say  he  was  a 
nobleman,  unwilling,  after  Elizabeth's 
death,  to  expose  himself  to  bootless  com- 
ment by  stating  the  fact  and  manner  of  his 
clandestine  marriage.  For  that  there  was 
a  marriage  all  who  have  sympathetically 
explored  the  strange  tale  insist. 

So  to-day  the  lovers  of  Peabody  plight 
42 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

their  troth  over  the  grave  of  this  beautiful 
woman  and  swear  to  be  faithful  unto  death 
even  as  she  was.  And  on  the  stone  so 
strangely  put  up  to  her  there  remains  legi- 
ble only  this  single  last  line: 

"  The  tears  of  strangers  watered  her  grave." 


43 


THE   WOOING   OF   ESTHER 
EDWARDS 

OPECULATIONS  as  to  the  differ- 
il  ence  in  history  which  might  have 
resulted  from  a  woman's  acceptance 
of  one  lover  instead  of  another  are  always 
of  interest.  Particularly  is  this  true  when 
the  child  of  the  woman  in  question  turns 
out  to  be  so  curious,  so  fascinating,  and 
so  enigmatic  a  character  as  Aaron  Burr. 

Heredity  certainly  played  strange  tricks 
on  itself  in  the  history  of  the  family  from 
which  Aaron  Burr  sprang.  We  have  seen 
in  the  story  of  Elizabeth  Whitman  that 
Pierrepont  Edwards,  son  of  Jonathan 
Edwards,  the  theologian,  and  Sarah  Pierre- 
44 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

pont,  the  heavenly-minded  one,  was  very 
far  indeed  from  being  a  child  of  grace. 
And  the  moral  lapses  of  Aaron  Burr,  born 
of  a  high-minded  father  and  a  singularly 
spiritual  mother,  are  too  well-known  to 
need  more  than  a  passing  mention  here. 
The  only  conclusion  to  be  reached,  as  one 
surveys  the  life  of  Hamilton's  slayer,  is 
that  his  sad  and  early  bereavement  (he 
was  an  orphan  from  childhood)  left  him 
so  young  without  a  parent's  loving  direc- 
tion that  one  should  always  pity  and  never 
condemn  him. 

Burr's  grandfather  —  Jonathan  Ed- 
wards, renowned  to  this  day  as  the  first 
American  author  to  achieve  a  European 
reputation  as  well  as  because  he  is  a  great 
theologian  —  offers  to  those  interested  in 
biography  one  of  the  most  charming  of 
subjects.  It  is  a  source  of  regret  that 
there  is  not  more  to  be  known  of  the  man 

45 


OLD  XEW  e:ntgland  chueches 

himself.  The  few  things  that  we  do  know, 
however,  are  full  of  beauty  and  poetic 
charm.  Born  in  East  Windsor,  Connecti- 
cut, just  two  hundred  years  ago  (October 
5,  1T03),  the  only  son  of  the  pastor  of  the 
Congregational  Church  of  that  place,  Jon- 
athan entered  Yale  College  when  only 
thirteen  years  of  age.  After  graduation 
he  spent  two  years  in  his  theological  stud- 
ies, and  in  1722,  when  but  nineteen  years 
old,  was  licensed  to  preach.  For  a  few 
months  he  presided  over  a  small  Presby- 
terian church  in  New  York  City,  but 
things  were  not  favourable  in  the  New 
York  of  that  day  to  the  faith  of  a  Jon- 
athan Edwards,  so  he  soon  returned  to 
New  Haven  to  complete  his  studies. 

Then  there  came  into  the  man's  life 

that  affection  which  has  caused  him  to 

be   so  often   likened  to  Dante.     For   he 

gained  the  love  of  Sarah  Pierrepont,  of 

46 


THK    RKVEKK.NI)    JONATHAN'    KDWAKDS 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

whom,  when  she  was  a  young  girl  of  thir- 
teen, he  wrote  this  exquisite  description: 
"  They  say  that  there  is  a  young  lady  in 
New  Haven  who  is  beloved  of  that  great 
Being  who  made  and  rules  the  world, 
and  there  are  certain  seasons  in  which  this 
great  Being,  in  some  way  or  other  invisi- 
ble, comes  to  her  and  fills  her  mind  with 
exceeding  sweet  delight,  and  that  she 
hardly  cares  for  anything  except  to  medi- 
tate on  Him ;  that  she  expects  after  awhile 
to  be  raised  up  out  of  the  world  and  caught 
up  into  heaven;  being  assured  that  He 
loves  her  too  well  to  let  her  remain  at 
a  distance  from  Him  always.  There  she 
is  to  dwell  with  Him  and  be  ravished  with 
His  love  and  delight  forever.  Therefore, 
if  you  present  all  the  world  before  her, 
with  the  richest  of  its  treasures,  she  cares 
not  for  it,  and  is  unmindful  of  any  pain 
or  affliction.     She  has  a  strange  sweetness 

47 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

in  her  mind  and  singular  purity  in  her 
affections ;  is  most  just  and  conscientious 
in  all  her  conduct ;  and  you  could  not  per- 
suade her  to  do  anything  wrong  or  sinful 
if  you  would  give  her  all  the  world,  lest 
she  should  offend  this  great  Being.  She  is 
of  a  wonderful  calmness  and  universal 
benevolence  of  mind ;  especially  after  this 
great  God  has  manifested  Himself  to  her 
mind.  She  will  sometimes  go  about  from 
place  to  place  singing  sweetly;  and  seems 
to  be  always  full  of  joy  and  pleasure,  and 
no  one  knows  for  what.  She  loves  to  be 
alone,  walking  in  the  fields  and  groves, 
and  seems  to  have  some  one  invisible  al- 
ways conversing  with  her." 

Small  wonder  that  this  inspired  bit  has 
been  compared  to  Dante's  rhapsody  on  his 
first  sight  of  Beatrice,  —  then  also  a  young 
girl  like  Sarah  Pierrepont :  "  Her  dress 
on  that  day  was  a  most  noble  colour,  a 
48 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

subdued  and  goodly  crimson,  girdled  and 
adorned  in  such  sort  as  best  suited  with 
her  very  tender  age.  At  that  moment, 
I  say  most  truly,  that  the  spirit  of  life, 
which  hath  its  dwelling  in  the  secretest 
chamber  of  the  heart,  began  to  tremble 
so  violently  that  the  least  pulses  of  my 
body  shook  therewith,  and  in  trembling 
it  said  these  words,  '  Behold  the  deity, 
which  is  stronger  than  I,  who  coming  to 
me  will  rule  within  me.'  " 

While  under  the  spell  of  his  holy  love 
for  "  the  young  lady  in  New  Haven,"  Jon- 
athan Edwards  was  invited  to  become  col- 
league pastor  at  Northampton,  Massachu- 
setts, with  his  grandfather,  the  Reverend 
Solomon  Stoddard.  And  on  the  fifteenth  of 
February,  1727,  when  he  was  a  little  more 
than  twenty-three  years  of  age,  he  took  up 
his  duty  in  that  important  Massachusetts 
towTi.     The  next  spring  he  went  back  to 

49 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

New  Haven  to  be  married  to  his  lovely 
Sarah,  now  a  girl  of  seventeen,  and  as 
pronounced  in  her  beauty  as  in  her  spirit- 
uality. 

The  Northampton  in  which  this  young 
couple  now  assumed  an  important  social  po- 
sition stood  at  the  time  they  came  to  the 
town  high  among  the  settlements  of  the 
State.  Nearly  one-half  the  area  of  the  prov- 
ince of  Massachusetts  lay  within  the  bor- 
ders of  the  county  of  which  it  was  the  capi- 
tal. Many  office-holders  and  professional 
men  of  local  distinction  were  settled  there, 
wealth  was  being  frugally  gathered,  culture 
and  refinement  prevailed,  and  the  nucleus 
of  that  aristocracy  which  still  survives 
was  being  formed.  Naturally,  in  a  village 
of  this  kind  the  institution  of  most  impor- 
tance was  the  church,  —  only  one,  it  is 
to  be  noted,  and  that  the  parish  over  which 


50 


OLD   NEW   E:NGLAND   CHURCHES 

the  young  and  spiritually  enthusiastic 
Jonathan  Edwards  had  come  to  officiate. 

"  This  place,"  said  Edwards,  in  writing 
to  a  friend,  "  was  preeminently,  in  the 
respect  of  conversions,  a  city  set  on  a  hill. 
People  at  a  distance  .  .  .  have  been  ready 
to  look  upon  Northampton  as  a  kind  of 
heaven  upon  earth."  And  what  had  been 
begun  under  Mr.  Stoddard  was  continued 
during  Mr.  Edwards's  pastorate,  and  was 
celebrated  in  his  writings  until  the  to^vn  be- 
came famous  as  the  centre  of  that  mighty 
religious  phenomena  known  in  history  as 
the  "  Great  Awakening." 

In  spite  of  its  previous  periodic  at- 
tacks of  religious  fervour,  the  town  needed, 
it  was  soon  discovered,  a  clarion  call  back 
to  the  necessity  of  pure  life  and  moral 
soundness.  Edwards  and  his  wife,  "  en- 
dowed with  strange  sweetness  in  her  mind 
and   singular   purity   in   her   affections," 

51 


OLD  XEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

were  indeed  a  providential  people  for  this 
crisis,  and  they  worked  a  veritable  moral 
revolution  in  I^ew  England  and  affected  a 
most  significant  change  in  the  town.  In 
the  first  revival  after  the  new  minister's 
coming,  "  upwards  of  fifty  persons  above 
forty  years  of  age,  ten  above  ninety,  nearly 
thirty  between  ten  and  fourteen,  and  one 
of  four,  became  the  subjects  of  the  renew- 
ing grace  of  God."  Such  large  numbers 
of  converts  were  duly  received  into  the 
church  that  it  numbered  at  one  time  about 
six  hundred  and  twenty  members,  and  in- 
cluded almost  the  entire  adult  population. 
These  persons,  "  with  other  subjects  of 
grace,  in  the  county  of  Hampshire,  near 
the  banks  of  the  river  Connecticut,  were 
turned  from  a  formal,  cold,  and  careless 
profession  of  Christianity  to  the  lively 
exercise  of  every  Christian  grace,  and  the 
powerful  practice  of  our  holy  religion," 
52 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

according  to  the  documents  of  the  time. 
And  this  statement  one  quite  readily  ac- 
cepts, for  while  Jonathan  Edwards's  theol- 
ogy had  very  often  the  dark  and  gloomy 
colouring  peculiar  to  his  time,  his  preach- 
ing was  marked  by  dignity,  grace,  pa- 
tience, and  a  compassion  truly  Christlike. 
Probably  it  was  chiefly  his  manner,  how- 
ever, which  made  him  what  he  is  confessed 
to  have  been,  the  greatest  preacher  of  his 
age.  "  His  eyes,"  says  one  in  writing  of 
him,  "  were  seeing  things  of  which  he 
talked,  and  not  the  people  to  whom  he 
spoke.  He  was  calm  and  pale,  he  had  the 
form  of  an  ascetic;  rapt  and  serious  in 
look,  it  was  his  habit  to  lean  upon  the 
pulpit  with  marvellous  eyes  alight,  a  face 
illuminate  from  within,  earnest,  confident, 
authoritative,  with  nothing  in  his  vesture 
or  manner  priestly  except  that  his  heart 


53 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

was  touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  in- 
firmities." 

In  his  earnest  spiritual  quest,  Edwards 
—  again  like  Dante  —  was  constantly 
guided  by  the  influence  of  the  woman  he 
loved.  The  marriage  with  Sarah  Pierre- 
pont  was  in  every  sense  an  ideal  one.  As 
one  studies  the  life  and  writings  of  Ed- 
wards one  sees  evidence  on  every  hand  that 
in  the  bewilderment  of  the  "  Great  Awak- 
ening," the  preacher  depended  greatly 
on  the  character  and  testimony  of  his  wife- 
To  him  was  not  vouchsafed  experience  of 
those  wonderful  visions  of  which  others 
boasted,  and,  according  to  his  own  state- 
ment, it  was  only  in  the  spiritual  exalta- 
tion of  his  wife  that  he  found  confirmation 
of  the  truth.  Thus  after  describing  the 
inner  moods  of  the  working  of  the  divine 
grace  as  she  had  known  it,  and  giving 
to  the  world  her  religious  confessiong,  he 
54 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

exclaims,  "  This  could  have  been  no  other 
than  the  peace  of  God  which  passeth  all 
understanding,  —  the  joy  of  belief  which 
though  unspeakable  is  full  of  glory." 

Of  the  beautiful  family  life  of  the  Ed- 
wardses  we  catch  several  charming 
glimpses  from  the  diary  of  the  Reverend 
Joseph  Emerson,  of  East  Pepperell,  Massa- 
chusetts. Ten  children,  a  fair  proportion 
of  them  girls,  had  come  to  bless  the  union 
of  these  two  rarely  idealistic  spirits,  and 
with  one  of  these  the  Reverend  Joseph 
Emerson  fell  desperately  in  love,  when  in 
the  course  of  a  return  journey  after  Yale 
Commencement  he  stayed  for  a  few  days 
at  Northampton.  Under  date  of  Septem- 
ber lY,  1748,  we  find  in  Mr.  Emerson's 
journal  this,  his  first  reference  to  the  fam- 
ily of  his  beloved  one :  "In  Wethersfield 
we  met  with  Mr.  Edwards,  of  Northamp- 
ton, and  concluded  to  go  home  with  him 

55 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

the  beginning  of  the  next  week  by  the  leave 
of  Providence.  We  stopped  and  dined  at 
Hartford,  and  called  at  Windsor  upon 
Mr.  Edwards,  father  to  Mr.  Edwards  of 
Northampton,  where  we  were  overper- 
siiaded  to  tarry  over  the  Sabbath. 

"  Sat.  18.  Mr.  Edwards  of  Northamp- 
ton preached  a.  m.  from  1  Tim.  6:  19.  I 
preached  p.  m.  Very  courteously  treated 
here. 

"  Tues.  20.  Arrived  at  Northampton 
before  night. 

'*  Wed.  21.  Spent  the  day  very  pleas- 
antly: the  most  agreeable  family  I  was 
ever  acquainted  with:  much  of  the  pres- 
ence of  God  here. 

"  Thurs.  22.  We  set  out  for  home :  Mr. 
Edwards  was  so  kind  as  to  accompany  us 
over  Connecticut  River,  and  bring  us  on 
our  way:  we  took  our  leave  of  him.  He 
is  certainly  a  great  man. 
56 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAA^D  CHURCHES 

"Sat.  24.  Sat  out  on  our  journey: 
dined  at  Colonel  Willard's  at  Lancaster; 
got  home  to  Groton  a  little  after  sunset. 
I  have  had  a  very  pleasant  journey:  have 
not  met  with  any  difficulty  in  travelling 
above  three  hundred  miles.  God's  name 
be  praised ! 

"  Sat.  Oct.  1.  I  wrote  two  letters  in 
the  forenoon,  one  to  Mr.  Edwards  of 
Northampton,  the  other  to  his  second 
daughter,  a  very  desirable  person  to  whom 
1  purpose  by  Divine  leave  to  make  my  ad- 
dresses. May  the  Lord  direct  me  in  so 
important  an  affair !  " 

What  answer  Mr.  Emerson  received  to 
his  letters  the  diary  does  not  tell,  but  one 
fancies  that  it  was  not  altogether  encour- 
aging. Yet  on  the  principle  that  faint 
heart  ne'er  won  fair  lady,  we  find  the 
Pepperell  minister  soon  setting  out  again 
for  Northampton  to  plead  in  person  his 

57 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAI^D   CHURCHES 

suit  with  the  girl,  then  only  fifteen  years 
old,  who  had  captivated  his  fancy.  The 
diary  reads: 

"  Mon.  Nov.  7.  Sat  out  some  Time  be- 
fore Day  on  a  Journey  to  Northampton 
to  visit  Mistress  Esther  Edw^ards  to  treat 
of  Marriage:  got  to  Worcester  comfort- 
ably, tho'  something  stormy:  lodged  at 
Mr.  Goodwin's. 

"  Tues.  8.  Had  a  pleasant  Day  to  ride 
in ;  got  to  Cold  springs  in  the  Evening : 
lodged  at  Mr.  Billing's  the  Minister, 
where  I  was  very  comfortably  entertained. 

"  Wed.  9.  Got  safe  to  Northampton : 
obtained  the  Liberty  of  the  House :  in  the 
Evening  heard  Mr.  Searle  preach  at  an 
House  in  the  Neighbourhood  from,  by 
Grace  are  ye  saved. 

"  Thurs.  10.  I  spent  chief  of  the  Day 
with  Mistress  Esther,  in  whose  Company 


58 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

the  more  I  am,  the  greater  value  I  have 
for  her. 

"  Frid.  11.  The  Young  Lady  being 
obliged  to  be  from  Home,  I  spent  the  Day 
in  copying  off  something  remarkable  Mr. 
Edwards  hath  lately  received  from  Scot- 
land. Spent  the  Evening  with  Mistress 
Esther. 

"  Sat.  12.  Spent  part  of  the  Day  upon 
the  business  I  came  about. 

"  Mon.  14.  I  could  not  obtain  from  the 
Young  Lady  the  Least  Encouragement  to 
come  again :  the  chief  Objection  she  makes 
is  her  Youth,  which  I  hope  will  be  removed 
in  Time.  I  hope  the  disappointment  will 
be  sanctified  to  me  and  that  the  Lord  will 
by  his  providence  order  it  so  that  this  shall 
be  my  Companion  for  Life.  I  think  I  have 
followed  Providence  not  gone  before  it." 

Yet  this  Reverend  Joseph  Emerson  was 
not  a  lover  to  be  despised.     He  himself 

59 


OLD  XEW   EXGLAl^D   CHURCHES 

came  of  a  priestly  family,  and  one  of  his 
line  afterward  made  Concord  as  famous 
as  Jonathan  Edwards  had  made  North- 
ampton. Though  but  twenty-four  at  the 
time  he  went  forth  in  the  hope  of  bringing 
home  Esther  Edwards  as  his  bride,  he  had 
already  been  to  Louisburg  as  chaplain  of 
Sir  William  Pepperell's  expedition,  and 
had  preached  for  some  time  in  the  town 
he  had  caused  to  be  named  in  honour  of 
that  doughty  warrior.  That  his  love  for 
Esther  Edwards,  then  a  maiden  of  fifteen, 
had  in  it  something  of  the  exaltation  to 
be  observed  in  her  father's  love  for  her 
mother  we  cannot  doubt.  Certainly  it  was 
only  after  repeated  rebuffs  from  the  girl 
and  strenuous  struggles  with  himself  that 
this  country  parson  ceased  to  press  his 
suit,  and  reluctantly  gave  up  for  all  time 
whatever  hope  he  may  have  cherished  that 
Esther  Edwards  would  tell  him  "  yes." 
60 


OLl>    CIUKCH     AT     I'KPPKHKI.L,     DKDK  A  TF.l)     MAKCH 
8,    1770.    HY    PARSON    KMKKSON 


OLD   NEW  ENGLAIs'D   CHURCHES 

The  entries  in  the  diary  continue  for  many 
months  to  dwell  upon  the  desire  of  this 
godly  youth's  heart. 

"  Thurs.  ISTov.  17.  I  came  home  to  my 
lodgings.  ...  I  was  considerably  melan- 
choly under  my  Disappointment  at  N^orth- 
ampton;  concluded  notwithstanding,  by 
Leave  of  Providence  to  make  another  trial 
in  the  Spring. 

"  Sat.  19.  So  discomposed  I  could  not 
study.  I  could  not  have  thought  that  what 
I  have  lately  met  with  would  have  had 
this  effect.  The  Lord  hath  put  me  in  a 
very  good  school.  I  hope  I  shall  profit  by 
it. 

"  Sat.  20.  Much  more  composed.  I 
endeavoured  to  roll  off  my  burden  upon  the 
Lord,  and  He  sustained  me.  I  preached 
all  day  from  They  that  are  whole  need  not 
a  physician  but  they  that  are  sick. 

"  Mon.  Dec.  5.     I  -^vrote  two  letters  to 

61 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAiq^D   CHURCHES 

Northampton,  one  to  dear  Mistress  Esther 
Edwards,  who  I  find  ingrosseth  too  many 
of  my  Tho'ts,  yet  some  glimmering  of 
Hope  supported  my  Spirits. 

"  Frid.  23.  I  was  this  day  so  pressed 
down  under  the  weight  of  some  peculiar 
Burdens  both  of  a  Temporal  and  Spiritual 
Nature,  that  I  could  not  fix  my  mind  to 
do  anything  at  all  in  the  forenoon.  In  the 
afternoon  I  attended  a  private  Meeting  at 
Mr.  Samuel  Eiske's,  read  a  Sermon  out 
of  Dr.  Watts. 

"Sat.  24.  Melancholy  all  day:  it 
seems  to  be  growing  upon  me.  I  read  a 
little,  but  chief  of  the  Day  sat  meditating 
on  my  Troubles.  Evening  my  Burden 
somewhat  lightened.  Oh !  that  I  could 
be  thankful:  for  it  almost  unfits  me  for 
the  Service  of  God  or  man ! 

"  Sat.  25.    Preached  all  Day  from  They 


62 


I 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

that  be  whole  need  not  a  physician,  but 
they  that  be  sick. 

"  Mon.  26.  Went  out  to  divert  myself, 
and  visited  several  of  the  Neighbours. 

"  Sat.  Jan.  1,  1749.  I  preached  all  day 
from  Commit  thy  way  unto  the  Lord :  trust 
also  in  him.  An  extreme  cold  day,  very 
few  people  at  meeting. 

"  Sat.  7.  Studied  all  day.  Being  bur- 
dened so  much  this  week,  I  could  not  get 
prepared  for  the  Sabbath  until  in  the 
Evening. 

"  Sat.  28.     Very  much  out  of  order. 

"  Sabbath  29.  Preached  all  Day  from 
Yea,  all  who  will  live  Godly  in  Christ 
Jesus  shall  suffer  Persecution.  Much  in- 
disposed all  Day.  » 

"  Mon.  30.  My  illness  seems  to  increase 
upon  me. 

"  Tues.  31.  Something  better  through 
Mercy:   was  able  to  do  a  little  writing. 

63 


OLD  XEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

"Wed.  Feb.  1.  Something  better: 
wrot«   two   Letters  to   ISTorthampton. 

"  Tiies.  21.  I  read  all  the  forenoon: 
afternoon  wrote  a  Letter  to  Northampton 
to  send  to  Mr.  Isaac  Parker  who  designs 
to  set  out  for  there  tomorrow.  Spent  the 
Evening  with  the  Committee  who  came  up 
from  Town  to  lay  out  the  Common  about 
our  Meeting  (house). 

"  Sat.  25.  This  day  being  the  Anniver- 
sary of  my  Ordination  I  devoted  to  East- 
ing and  Prayer.  I  was  obliged  to  study 
some  not  being  prepared  for  Tomorrow. 
I  endeavoured  to  lay  low  before  God  for 
my  many  sins,  and  the  many  aggravations 
of  'em.  Especially  for  the  short  Comings 
of  the  Year  past.  An  awful  breach  of 
Vows  and  Promises.  I  solemnly  renewed 
my  Covenant  and  made  Resolutions  and 
Promises.  I  hoped  in  the  strength  of 
Christ  that  I  would  live  better,  that  I 
64 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

would  watch  more  against  sin,  and  espe- 
cially against  the  sin  which  dost  most 
easily  beset  me :  I  pleaded  for  Strength  to 
perform  all  Duties  of  my  General  and  Par- 
ticular Calling.  Oh  Lord  hear  my 
Prayers,  accept  my  Humiliation,  and  give 
me  Strength  to  keep  my  Vows  for  Jesus' 
sake.     Amen  and  Amen. 

"  Sat.  March  11.  Eead  something,  re- 
ceived a  Letter  from  Mrs,  Sarah  Edwards 
who  entirely  discourages  me  from  taking  a 
Journey  again  there  to  visit  her  Sister 
who  is  so  near  my  Heart.  I  am  disap- 
pointed :  the  Lord  teach  me  to  profit :  may 
I  be  resigned. 

"  Tues.  21.  Very  much  out  of  order.  I 
have  a  constant  faintness  at  my  stomach, 
more  weak  this  Spring  than  usual. 

"  Wed.  22.     Able  to  study  some. 

"  Mon.  27.  My  weakness  increases  upon 


65 


OLD  yEW   EXGLA^D   CHURCHES 

me,  so  I  am  obliged  to  leave  Pastoral 
Visits  for  a  Time. 

"  Sabbath,  April  2.  I  was  obliged  to 
preach  old  Sermons  all  Day. 

"  Mon.  3.  Rode  over  to  Lancaster.  I 
find  riding  a  service  to  me  under  my 
present  Weakness," 

And  so  with  a  capitalized  Weakness  that 
"  still  continues,"  ends  this  interesting  old 
journal  found  in  the  Reverend  Joseph 
Emerson's  house  long  after  his  death,  and 
by  one  of  his  descendants  now  loaned  to 
me. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  however,  that 
while  this  good  youth  was  suffering  thus 
severely  from  the  pangs  of  disappointed 
love,  things  were  altogether  easy  and  happy 
in  that  family  which  occupied  his 
thoughts.  Mrs.  Edwards's  journal  about 
this  date  betrays  occasional  apprehensions. 
For  though  the  church  at  Northampton 
66 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

was  undoubtedly  very  proud  of  its  gifted 
pastor  and  crowds  still  hung  upon  his 
lips,  there  was  brewing  just  at  this  time 
one  of  those  curious  church  dissensions  to 
be  condoned  only  after  the  lapse  of  so 
many  years  that  one  can  see  both  sides 
of  the  controversy.  Up  to  the  year  1744 
Mr.  Edwards  retained  a  firm  hold  upon 
the  confidence  and  affections  of  his  people. 
During  that  year  was  sown  the  seed  that 
ripened  into  hostility  and  ultimately  led 
to  his  dismissal. 

He  learned  that  a  number  of  the  younger 
members  of  his  church  had  in  their  pos- 
session licentious  books,  and  he  felt  that 
this  was  a  case  for  discipline.  So  he  pre- 
pared and  preached  a  sermon  against  the 
sin  of  light  reading,  and,  after  the  service, 
informing  the  church  of  what  he  knew,  a 
committee  was  appointed  to  cooperate  with 
the  pastor  in  investigating  the  hidden  sore. 

67 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

The  rub  came  when  the  extent  of  the  evil 
was  ascertained,  and  it  was  found  that  the 
sons  and  daughters  of  many  of  the  most 
respectable  families  in  the  place  were  im- 
plicated. Xaturally,  those  young  people 
whom  Mr.  Edwards  would  have  dismissed 
from  the  congregation  of  the  righteous  be- 
cause of  the  lapse  involved  in  reading  the 
■questionable  books,  became,  at  this  stage, 
disaffected  toward  the  pastor.  And  not 
less  naturally  their  parents  sympathized 
with  them.  Thus  it  was  that  the  after 
ministry  of  Mr.  Edwards  was  attended 
with  but  little  success. 

The  occasion  of  rupture  came,  however, 
when  Mr.  Edwards  opposed  the  prevailing 
custom  of  admitting  to  the  communion 
all  baptized  persons.  His  grandfather  had 
taught  —  and  this  example  was  widely  fol- 
lowed in  the  vicinity  of  Northampton  — 
that  the  Lord's  Supper  was  a  channel  of 
68 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 


converting  grace.  But  this  high  sacra- 
mentarian  view  Edwards  had  distrusted 
from  the  beginning,  and  now  after  years 
of  study  he  became  firmly  convinced  that 
he  must  refuse  the  sacred  elements  to  those 
who  would  not  make  a  confession  of  reli- 
gion. For  several  years,  therefore,  there 
was  dissension  in  the  church,  and  on  June 
22,  1750,  an  ecclesiastical  council  decided 
by  a  majority  of  one  that  the  pastoral  rela- 
tion which  had  lasted  twenty-three  years 
must  be  severed.  Jonathan  Edwards  was 
dismissed.  Himself,  his  wife,  and  his  ten 
children  were  suddenly  deprived  of  the 
means  of  living,  and  that  under  circum- 
stances that  made  it  unlikely  that  he  would 
be  again  able  to  practise  his  profession. 
Yet  that  Edwards's  position  was  theologi- 
cally sound  there  can  be  no  doubt.  Cer- 
tainly, the  practice  of  later  years  may  be 
held  tx)  have  vindicated  him. 

69 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

To  the  humble  post  of  missionary  to  the 
Indians  at  Stockbridge,  this,  the  greatest 
living  preacher  of  his  day,  now  cheerfully 
turned.  He  had  been  offered  a  church 
in  Scotland,  but  declined  the  call,  prefer- 
ring to  write  out  in  the  quiet  of  the  woods 
the  doctrinal  works  that  besieged  his  brain. 
So  poor  was  he  at  this  time  that  he  could 
with  difficulty  procure  the  paper  necessary 
to  the  perpetuation  of  his  thoughts,  and 
parts  of  his  famous  "  Treatise  on  the 
Will "  were  written  on  the  backs  of  old 
letters  and  on  the  blank  pages  of  pam- 
phlets. His  wife,  still  beautiful  and  still 
saintly,  aided  by  his  daughters,  all  of 
whom  were  abundantly  gifted,  eked  out  the 
family  income  by  making  lace  and  paint- 
ing fans  which  were  sent  to  Boston  for 
sale. 

Esther  was  at  this  time  eighteen  years 
of  age,  very  lovely  to  look  upon  as  well 
70 


OLD  NEW   ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

as  highly  talented.  Plenty  of  young  men 
besides  the  Reverend  Joseph  Emerson  had 
already  sought  her  hand  in  marriage,  but 
it  was  not  until  two  years  after  the  family 
removed  to  Stockbridge  that  there  came 
riding  to  the  door  of  her  hmnble  home  a 
lover  who  touched  her  heart.  The  man 
who  sought  her  out  in  the  hut  on  the  edge 
of  the  wilderness  was  one  of  the  most  re- 
novmed  and  brilliant  members  of  her 
father's  profession.  He  stayed  only  three 
days  —  this  Reverend  Aaron  Burr  —  but 
he  made  himself  so  agreeable  to  Esther 
Edwards  during  his  visit  that  after  his 
departure  the  maiden  made  no  more  lace 
and  painted  no  more  fans  for  the  Boston 
ladies.  Rather  was  she  on  love-letters  and 
wedding-clothes  intent. 

This  Aaron  Burr  was  not  one  of  those 
grim-looking  persons  whose  portraits  form 
the  repelling  frontispieces  to  the  religious 

71 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

books  of  the  pre-Revoliitionary  period,  but 
a  gentleman  whose  style  and  manner  would 
have  graced  a  court.  He  had  been  born 
at  Fairfield,  Connecticut,  in  1716,  and  so 
was  thirty-seven  when  he  first  met  the 
woman  of  his  choice.  For  years  a  school- 
master and  an  author,  as  well  as  the  pastor 
of  a  church  in  Xewark,  Xew  Jersey,  he 
had  lately  been  appointed  the  first  presi- 
dent of  Princeton  College.  He  is  described 
as  a  man  small  of  stature,  very  handsome, 
with  clear,  dark  eyes  of  a  soft  lustre,  — 
quite  unlike  the  piercing  orbs  of  his  son, 
—  a  figure  compactly  foi-med  but  some- 
what slender,  and  with  the  bearing  of  a 
prince.  The  fascinating  manner  and  lofty 
style  of  Mr.  Burr  are  frequently  mentioned 
in  the  letters  of  the  period.  From  one  of 
these  letters,  indeed,  we  get  this  very  in- 
teresting account  of  his  courtship :  ''In 
the  latter  part  of  May  the  president  (of 
72 


OLD   NEW   E^TGLAND   CHURCHES 


Princeton  College)  took  a.  journey  into 
New  England,  and  during  his  absence  he 
made  a  visit  of  but  three  days  to  the  Rev- 
erend Mr.  Edwards's  daughter  at  Stock- 
bridge;  in  which  short  time,  though  he 
had  no  acquaintance  with  her  nor  had  ever 
seen  the  lady  these  six  years,  I  suppose  he 
accomplished  his  whole  design ;  for  it  was 
not  above  a  fortnight  after  his  return  here 
before  he  sent  a  young  fellow  (who  came 
out  of  college  last  fall)  into  New  England 
to  conduct  her  and  her  mother  down  here. 
They  came  to  town  on  Saturday  evening, 
the  twenty-seventh,  and  on  the  Monday 
evening  following,  the  nuptial  ceremonies 
were  celebrated  between  Mr,  Burr  and  the 
young  lady.  As  I  have  yet  no  manner  of 
acquaintance  with  her,  I  cannot  describe  to 
you  her  qualifications  and  properties.  How- 
ever, they  say  she  is  a  very  valuable  lady. 
I   think   her   a   person   of   great   beauty, 

73 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

though  I  must  say  she  is  rather  too  young 
(being  twenty -one  years  of  age)  for  the 
president." 

Two  weeks  later  this  cheerful  gossip 
of  a  sophomore  writes  again  on  the  en- 
grossing subject :  "  I  can't  omit  acquaint- 
ing you  that  our  president  enjoys  all  the 
happiness  the  married  state  can  afford.  I 
am  sure  when  he  was  in  the  condition  of 
celibacy  the  pleasure  of  his  life  bore  no 
comparison  to  that  he  now  possesses.  From 
the  little  acquaintance  I  have  with  his 
lady  I  think  her  a  woman  of  very  good 
sense,  of  a  genteel  and  virtuous  education, 
amiable  in  her  person,  of  great  affability 
and  agreeableness  in  conversation,  and  a 
very  excellent  economist.  These  qualifi- 
cations may  help  you  to  form  some  idea  of 
the  person  who  liv^  in  the  sincerest 
mutual  affections  with  Mr.  Burr." 

When  Aaron  Burr,  2nd,  was  born  (Feb- 
74 


OLD   ^"EW   ENGLAND   CHURCHES 

niary  6,  1756),  the  assembly  building  at 
Princeton  was  so  nearly  completed  that  the 
College  of  New  Jersey  was  able  to  add  a 
local  habitation  to  its  well-earned  name. 
To  Princeton,  therefore,  the  president  and 
his  family  removed  late  in  the  year  1756, 
and  it  was  from  this  place  that  Esther 
Burr  wrote  this  significant  description  of 
Aaron,  then  thirteen  months  old :  "  Aaron 
is  a  little  dirty,  noisy  boy,  very  different 
from  Sally  almost  in  everything.  He  be- 
gins to  talk  a  little;  is  very  sly  and  mis- 
chievous. He  has  more  sprightliness  than 
Sally,  and  most  say  he  is  handsome,  but  not 
so  good  tempered.  He  is  veiy  resolute,  and 
requires  a  good  governor  to  bring  him  to 
terms." 

That  very  good  governor,  his  father,  who 
might  have  made  such  a  difference  in  the 
life  of  this  second  Aaron  Burr,  was  only  a 
few  months  later  taken  out  of  the  world 

76 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

at  the  early  age  of  forty-two.  The  labour 
of  establishing  Princeton  on  a  firm  foun- 
dation had  been  too  much  for  him,  and 
so  it  came  about  that  Esther  Burr  was, 
when  scarcely  twenty-five,  left  a  widow 
with  two  young  children,  one  three  and  the 
other  less  than  two  years  old.  Her  heart- 
broken letters  to  her  father  written  about 
this  time  show  very  clearly  how  terribly 
she  suffered  in  her  bereavement,  and  fore- 
shadow her  own  early  death.  Scarcely 
had  Edwards  been  inaugurated  presi- 
dent of  the  College  of  New  Jersey  to 
succeed  the  lamented  husband,  when  both 
he  and  Mrs.  Burr  died  of  smallpox.  In 
the  fall  of  the  same  year  Jonathan  Ed- 
wards's widow,  who  had  gone  to  Philadel- 
phia with  the  intention  of  conveying  little 
Aaron  Burr  and  his  sister  Sarah  to  her 
own  home,  there  to  bring  them  up  in  care- 
ful, godly  fashion,  was  seized  with  a  dread 
76 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

disease  and  herself  passed  to  the  bourne 
from  which  no  traveller  returns.  Thus 
within  a  period  of  thirteen  months  these 
children  were  of  father,  mother,  and  grand- 
parents all  bereft.  And  there  was  left  in 
the  wide  world  absolutely  no  one  whose 
chief  concern  it  could  be  to  see  that  they 
received  no  detriment. 

A  thing  almost  as  beautiful  as  Jonathan 
Edwards's  youthful  rhapsody  concerning 
his  child-wife,  was  his  death-bed  message 
to  her,  —  the  one  woman  of  his  life.  It 
was  noticed  by  those  attending  him  that 
he  said  but  little.  There  were  none  of 
the  raptures  peculiar  to  the  "  saint  of 
God,"  no  allusions  to  his  books,  to  the 
labours  of  his  life,  or  to  the  fortunes  of 
the  Church.  But  he  spoke  to  his  daughter 
words  thus  recorded :  "  Give  my  kindest 
love  to  my  dear  wife,  and  tell  her  that 


17 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

the  uncommon  union  which  has  so  long 
subsisted  between  us  has  been  of  such  a 
nature  as  I  trust  is  spiritual,  and  therefore 
will  continue  forever." 


78 


A  COLONIAL  FEIAR  LAURENCE 

y^NY  one  who  should  expect  to  find 
y~m  the  life  of  a  mission  minister  in 
colonial  days  altogether  prosaic 
and  barren  of  romance  would  be  greatly 
astonished  upon  dipping  into  the  history 
of  the  Reverend  Arthur  Browne,  first  rec- 
tor of  St.  John's  Church,  Portsmouth, 
N.  H.  This  parish,  alive  and  prosperous 
to-day,  has  been  in  existence  ever  since 
1732,  when  right  on  the  present  site  the 
"  English  Society  for  Propagating  the 
Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts  "  started  its  first 
mission  in  Portsmouth.  In  Mr.  Browne, "  a 
man  of  real  culture,  unpretentious  good- 
ness, and  eminent  worth,"  was  soon  found 

79 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

a  leader  well  fitted  for  his  task.  More- 
over, Mr.  Browne  was  theologically  able  as 
well  as  quite  unusually  democratic  in  his 
views  for  one  of  his  time  and  station. 
Being  born  an  Irishman  and  educated  at 
Trinity  College,  Dublin,  was  a  good  be- 
ginning in  those  days  for  colonial  life  in 
an  aristocratic  American  centre. 

This  Reverend  Arthur  Browne  students 
and  lovers  of  romance  will  remember  it 
was  who  performed  the  marriage  ceremony 
between  Governor  Benning  Wentworth  and 
Martha  Hilton,  the  aged  magistrate's 
pretty  housemaid.  This  union  was  sol- 
emnized much  against  the  good  rector's 
will,  but  he  disliked  the  match  because  of 
the  disparity  between  the  ages  of  the  con- 
tracting parties  rather  than  because  of  the 
difference  in  their  rank.  In  the  old  record- 
book,  which  visitors  to  the  church  may 
still  examine,  the  entry  of  the  marriage 
80 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

in  Mr.  Browne's  own  hand  is  distinguished 
by  no  flourish,  but  has  a  cramped  square 
inch  of  room,  just  like  that  given  to  every 
other  couple  in  a  day  when  paper  was 
scarce  and  high. 

Longfellow  has  immortalized  in  his 
charming  poem  the  tale  of  this  interesting 
alliance.  Young  Martha  Hilton,  idling 
along  the  street,  ragged  and  barefoot,  was 
one  day  rebuked  by  her  mistress  of  the 
Stavers'  Inn,  only  to  elicit  from  the  maid 
a  toss  of  the  head  and  the  reply  that  she 
would  yet  ride  in  her  own  chariot,  sur- 
rounded by  pomp  and  splendour. 

Not  very  long  after  it  began  to  look  as 
if  Martha's  idle  prophecy  would  indeed 
come  true.  For  upon  the  death  of  Gov- 
ernor Wentworth's  first  wife  the  girl  had 
gone  as  housekeeper  to  the  beautiful  man- 
sion still  standing  at  Little  Harbour  ^  and 

1  See  "  Romance  of  Old  New  England  Roof  trees." 

81 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

now  occupied  bj  Mr.  Templeman  Coolidge, 
who  has  recently  been  able  by  an  artistic 
arrangement  of  antique  furniture  to  intro- 
duce into  the  ancient  interior  something 
of  the  atmosphere  of  old-time  splen- 
dour and  luxui-y  which  characterized  the 
place  in  the  old  days.  The  portrait  of 
Strafford  dictating  to  his  secretary  just 
before  his  execution,  the  rare  Copley,  the 
green  damask-covered  furniture,  and  the 
sedan-chair  were  then  items  sufficiently 
magnificent,  it  appears,  to  tempt  Martha 
Hilton,  young  and  beautiful,  into  mar- 
riage with  a  man  almost  old  enough  to  be 
her  grandfather. 

This  historic  event  occurred  on  the  six- 
tieth anniversary  of  Governor  Went- 
worth's  birth.  The  dinner  had  been  a  su- 
perb one,  the  food  and  wine  capital,  and  the 
Reverend  Arthur  Browne  was,  of  course, 
among  the  guests,  for  in  those  days  church 
82 


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Cj^^I^^I^(3^^9 

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^^IH 

OLD  ^TEW  E^N^GLA^TD   CHURCHES 

and  state  were  never  far  apart,  even  on 

occasions  when  each  heartily  disapproved 

of  the  other. 

The  grand  coup  came  at  the  ending  of 

the  feast.  At  a  call  from  a  servant,  Martha 

Hilton,   now  grown   to   a   lovely   woman, 

slipped  unnoticed  into  the  room  while  her 

lord, 

"...  rising  from  his  chair, 
Played   slightly    with    his    ruffles,    then    looked 

down, 
And  said  unto  the  Rev.  Artliur  Browne  : 
'  This  is  my  birthday  ;  it  shall  likewise  be 
My  wedding-day  ;  and  you  shall  marry  me  ! '  " 

Nor  did  the  hesitation  of  the  rector 
avail,  for  the  impatient  governor  pro- 
ceeded to  "  command  as  chief  magistrate," 
to  the  end  that  the  priest  could  but  — 

"...  read  the  service  loud  and  clear  : 

'  Dearly  beloved,  we  are  gathered  here.' 

And  so  on  to  the  end.     At  his  command 

On  the  fourth  finger  of  her  fair  left  hand 

The  Governor  placed  the  ring;  and  that  was  all : 

Martha  was  Lady  Wentworth  of  the  Hall  !  " 

83 


OLD   JTEW   EXGLAXD   CHURCHES 

The  date  of  this  interesting  event  was 
March  15,  1760,  and  so  it  is  recorded  in 
the  parish  register,  where  the  second  mar- 
riage of  the  beautiful  Martha  is  also  duly 
set  down.  For  Governor  Wentworth  did 
not  live  long  after  his  romantic  espousal, 
and  with  what  appeared  to  many  most 
unseemly  haste  Martha  took  unto  herself 
a  new  husband,  none  other  than  Michael 
Wentworth,  the  governor's  brother,  then  a 
retired  officer  in  the  British  army.  At 
this  wedding  also  the  Rev.  Arthur  BroAvne 
officiated. 

The  first  rector  of  St.  John's  has  indeed 
come  down  to  us  as  the  Friar  Laurence  of 
not  a  few  romantic  marriages,  among  them 
one  striking  in  the  extreme.  Colonel  Theo- 
dore Atkinson,  Jr.,  son  of  that  Colonel 
Theodore  whose  bread  is  still  served  to 
Portsmouth's  poor  (of  which  unique  cus- 
tom more  anon)  had  married  a  cousin, 
84 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

whose  earlier  affections  had  been  placed  on 
John  Wentworth,  Governor  of  New  Hamp- 
shire when  the  Revolution  broke  out. 

In  his  youth  John  Wentworth  went  to 
England,  and  it  was  during  his  absence 
that  his  sweetheart  took  young  Atkinson 
as  her  husband.  But  two  years  previous 
to  the  date  one  finds  set  down  as  the  death 
of  Mr.  Atkinson,  the  young  Wentworth, 
now  a  man,  returned.  And,  what  was 
more,  he  came  back  clothed  with  the  dig- 
nity of  "  Governor  of  the  colony  and  Sur- 
veyor of  the  woods  of  North  America!  " 

The  windows  of  this  governor's  house 
could  be  seen  from  those  of  Colonel  At- 
kinson, and  the  gossips  of  history  tell  us 
that  signals  were  often  exchanged  between 
the  two  old  sweethearts.  Whether  or  not 
this  is  true,  Mrs.  Atkinson  had  certainly 
not  forgotten  her  former  lover;  for  just 
ten  days  after  her  husband's  funeral,  at 

85 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

which  the  venerable  Arthur  Browne  had 
duly  and  decorously  officiated,  his  services 
were  again  required  by  the  lady,  but  this 
time  in  a  happier  capacity.  Mr.  Charles 
Brewster,  a  local  historian  of  the  town,  has 
in  his  "  Rambles  About  Portsmouth  "  thus 
described  the  funeral  and  the  ensuing  oc- 
casion upon  which  the  Atkinson  baked 
meats  did  second  service : 

"  The  widow  was  arrayed  for  the  colo- 
nel's burial  service  in  the  dark  habiliments 
of  mourning,  which  we  presume  elicited 
an  immense  shower  of  tears,  as  the  fount 
was  soon  exhausted.  The  next  day  the 
mourner  appears  in  her  pew  at  church 
as  a  widow.  But  that  w^as  the  last  Sab- 
bath of  the  widow.  On  Monday  morning 
there  was  a  new  call  for  the  services  of 
the  milliner;  the  unbecoming  black  must 
be  laid  aside,  and  brighter  colours,  as  be- 


86 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUKCHES 

comes  a  governor's  bride,   must  take   its 
place." 

Rather  curiously  the  bill  for  the  bride- 
groom's apparel  at  that  hasty  wedding  in 
Queen's  Chapel  (this  building  the  prede- 
cessor on  the  same  site  of  the  present 
church)  has  come  down  to  us.    It  follows : 

£ 
To  pair  of  white  silk  stocking  breeches  1 
To  white  silk  coat,  uuliued  ....  2 
To  a  white  corded  silk  waistcoat      .     .  0 

To  a  rich  gold  lace 0 

To  gold  button  and  loop,  hat  recocked, 

etc 0 

To  three  yards  queue  ribbon  ....  0 

This  union  of  two  old  sweethearts  had 
unpleasant  results  for  the  Reverend  Arthur 
Browne.  It  may  be  that  he  was  excited 
beyond  his  wont  by  the  despatch  with 
which  the  late  Mrs.  Atkinson  had  consoled 
herself.  Or  perhaps  he  was  soliloquizing 
on  the  strange  turns  that  confront  one  in 
life,  and  wondering  what  might  happen 

87 


s. 

d. 

18 

0 

14 

0 

5 

0 

12 

0 

2 

0 

1 

3 

OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHUKCHES 

next.  Be  that  as  it  may,  he  wandered 
absent-mindedly  down  the  steps  after  the 
wedding  ceremony,  and,  falling,  broke  his 
arm. 

Before  leaving  the  subject  of  the  Atkin- 
sons' connection  with  old  St.  John's, 
mention  should  be  made  of  the  curious  cus- 
tom made  possible  in  this  church  by  the 
elder  Colonel  Theodore's  legacy  for  doling 
out  a  portion  of  bread  each  Sunday  to  the 
poor  of  the  parish.  Even  in  this  twentieth 
century,  twelve  loaves  of  bread,  known  as 
"  the  dole,"  are  thus  given  away  every 
Sunday  after  the  morning  service.  This 
bread  is  placed  always  on  the  baptismal 
font,  at  the  right  of  the  chancel,  and  cov- 
ered with  "  a  fair  linen  napkin,"  from 
which  place  the  Reverend  Henry  E.  Hovey, 
present  rector  of  St.  John's,  distributes  it. 

This  font  is  probably  the  very  oldest 
object  in  the  building.  It  is  made  of  por- 
88 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

phyritic  marble  of  a  dull  brownish  gray, 
finely  veined.  It  was  taken  by  Colonel 
John  Mason  from  the  French  in  1758,  at 
the  capture  of  Senegal,  and  is  undoubtedly 
African.  The  tradition  is  that  it  had  been 
taken  by  the  French  from  some  heathen 
temple,  and  was  very  old  at  the  time  of 
its  capture.  Colonel  Mason's  daughters 
presented  it  to  Queen's  Chapel  in  1761. 
Only  in  one  other  church  of  this  country, 
and  that  an  old  parish  in  Virginia,  is  the 
ancient  custom  of  doling  out  a  portion  of 
bread  each  Sunday  to  the  poor  of  the 
parish  still  kept  up.  From  the  income 
of  Colonel  Atkinson's  bequest  about  $6,000 
has  already  been  expended  for  this  charity, 
and  the  original  fund  remains  unimpaired. 

One  other  story  of  romantic  interest  is 
connected  with  this  old  parish.  This,  as 
recorded  by  Mr.  Brewster,  runs: 

"  Nicholas  Rousselet  was  a  man  of  good 

89 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

exterior,  and  when  dressed  in  the  official 
consular  costume,  which  he  wore  on  public 
days,  a  person  to  attract  attention.  Of 
his  first  acquaintance  with  Miss  Moffatt 
we  have  no  account,  but  tradition  says  that 
it  was  in  the  Episcoj^al  church  during 
service  hour  that  the  most  important 
crisis  in  the  courtship  transpired. 

"  Sitting  with  her  in  her  father's  pew, 
Mr.  Rousselet  handed  Miss  Katherine  the 
Bible,  in  which  he  had  marked  in  the  first 
verse  of  the  second  epistle  of  St.  John, 
the  words,  '  L^nto  the  elect  lady,'  and  the 
fifth  verse  entire,  '  And  now  I  beseech  thee, 
lady,  not  as  though  I  wrote  a  new  com- 
mandment unto  thee,  but  that  which  we 
had  from  the  beginning,  that  we  love  one 
another.'  Miss  Katherine,  fully  compre- 
hending the  appeal,  turned  down  a  leaf  in 
the  first  chapter  of  Ruth,  beginning  with 
verse  sixteen,  '  Whither  thou  goest,  I 
90 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

will  go;  and  where  thou  lodgest,  I  will 
lodge;  thy  people  will  be  my  people,  and 
thy  God,  my  God.  Where  thou  diest,  will 
I  die,  and  there  will  I  be  buried ;  the  Lord 
do  so  to  me  and  more  also,  if  aught  but 
death  part  thee  from  me.'  " 

During  Washington's  famous  visit  to 
New  Hampshire,  in  1789,  just  after  his 
inauguration,  he  went  to  service  at  the 
old  Queen's  Chapel  Parish,  now  St.  John's, 
and  in  his  diary  for  that  day,  November 
1,  1789,  he  wrote :  "  Attended  by  the  Pres- 
ident of  the  State  (General  Sullivan),  Mr. 
Langdon,  and  the  marshal,  I  went  in  the 
forenoon  to  the  Episcopal  Church  under 
the  incumbency  of  Mr.  Ogden." 

Tradition  tells  us  that  the  President 
was  arrayed  on  this  occasion  in  an  ele- 
gant complete  suit  of  black  velvet,  with 
brilliant  buckles.  He  occupied  the  old 
governor's  pew,  which  was  framed  in  red 

91 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUKCHES 

plush  curtains,  with  a  heavy  wooden  can- 
opy over  it,  bearing  the  royal  arms.  In 
this  pew  were  the  two  chairs  given  the 
parish  by  Queen  Caroline,  in  whose  honour 
the  chapel  had  been  named,  and  who  had 
presented  the  parish  at  the  same  time  with 
a  Bible,  prayer-books,  and  silver  service 
for  the  communion-table,  which  last  bears 
the  royal  arms  and  is  in  use  at  the  present 
day.  Trinity  Church,  New  York,  and 
Trinity  in  Boston  were  other  parishes  sim- 
ilarly remembered  by  gifts  of  communion 
silver  at  this  time. 

One  of  these  Queen  chairs  was  occupied 
that  Sunday  in  November,  1789,  by  the 
very  man  who  was  most  responsible  for 
the  overthrow  of  England's  power  in  the 
New  World.  And  when,  less  than  a  score 
of  years  afterward,  the  Chapel  was  burned 
(1806),  and  only  one  of  the  two  original 
chairs  in  the  governor's  pew  remained,  tra- 
92 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

dition  patriotically  declared  that  the  sur- 
vivor was  the  one  in  which  the  Father  of 
His  Country  sat. 

In  1791  the  parish  was  incorporated  as 
St.  John's,  and  in  1807  the  new  church 
took  the  same  name.  It  is  interesting  to 
learn  that  Trinity  Church,  Boston,  con- 
tributed $1,000  toward  the  erection  of  the 
new  building  in  its  need. 

One  of  the  unfortunate  accidents  of  the 
fire  of  1806  was  the  cracking  of  the  his- 
toric bell  which  had  begun  its  career  by 
ringing  out  peals  from  the  belfry  of  a 
French  Catholic  cathedral  in  Louisburg, 
but  which  had  been  brought  to  Portsmouth 
by  doughty  Colonel  Pepperell,  of  Kittery, 
just  across  the  river,  after  his  triumphant 
capture  of  the  defiant  French  fortress. 
But  the  bell  was  not  beyond  repair,  and 
after  being  recast  by  Paul  Revere,  clearly 
rang  forth  its  tidings  of  gaiety  and  gloom 

93 


OLD  XEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

for  many  years.      Finally,   however,   the 

constant  clanging  of  the  tongue  so  wore 

upon  the  metal   that   in   the   summer  of 

1896  the  old  relic  had  once  again  to  be 

taken  down  and  sent  to  Boston.    This  time 

the  Blake  Bell  Company,  successors  to  the 

Paul  Revere  Company  tliat  had  done  the 

same  work  ninety  years  before,  east  the 

relic. 

Inscribed  on  the  enduring  metal  of  the 

new-old  bell   are  now  these   words   from 

the  pen  of  one  of  the  Wentworths,  with 

whose  history  the  church  must  be  forever 

linked : 

"  From  St.  John's  steeple 
I  call  the  people 
On  holy  days 
To  prayer  and  praise." 

And  on  the  rim,  besides  the  motto : 

"  Vox   ego  sum   vitse,   voco  vos,   orate, 

venite,"  are  the  words,  "  My  mouth  shall 

show  forth  Thy  praise." 
94 


OLD  J^EW   ENGLAND   CHURCHES 

Any  account  of  St.  John's  parish  at 
Portsmouth  which  should  neglect  to  state 
that  the  old  Brattle  organ,  although  not 
used  in  the  church  itself,  is  one  of  the 
corporation's  most  cherished  possessions, 
would  necessarily  be  incomplete.  This 
"  instrument  "  was  purchased  for  the  allied 
chapel  in  1836  by  Dr.  Charles  Bur- 
roughs, the  first  settled  pastor  of  St.  John's 
after  the  rebuilding  of  the  church.  It  was 
originally  the  property  of  Mr.  Thomas 
Brattle,  one  of  the  founders  of  the  old 
Brattle  Street  Church  in  Boston.  Mr. 
Brattle,  who  was  an  enthusiastic  musician, 
imported  the  organ  from  London  in  1713. 
At  his  death  it  was  left  by  will  to  the 
Brattle  Street  Church  —  "  given  and  de- 
voted to  the  praise  and  glory  of  God  in 
said  church,  if  they  shall  accept  thereof 
and  within  a  year  after  my  decease  pro- 
cure a  sober  person  that  can  play  skilfully 

95 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

thereon  with  a  loud  noise."  The  will  fur- 
ther provided  that  the  organ  should  go 
to  King's  Chapel  if  not  accepted  according 
to  the  first  provision. 

The  non-compliance  of  the  Brattle  Street 
Church  with  the  condition  of  the  gift 
would,  therefore,  seem  to  have  been  the 
gain  of  King's  Chapel,  and  after  remain- 
ing unpacked  in  the  tower  for  some  eight 
months,  it  was  used  there  until  1756.  Then 
it  was  sold  to  St.  Paul's  Church,  in  Xew- 
buryport,  where  it  was  in  constant  use 
for  eighty  years.  In  1836,  as  has  been 
said,  it  was  purchased  by  Doctor  Bur- 
roughs for  St.  John's  Chapel,  and  it  is 
still  used  in  this  edifice  on  State  Street, 
Portsmouth.  The  case  is  new,  but  the  old 
wind-chest  and  most  of  the  pipes  of  the 
original  organ  remain,  and  some  of  the 
notes  are  even  now  of  unusual  sweetness. 
According  to  the  "  Annals  of  King's 
96 


OLD   XEW   EIs^GLAXD   CHURCHES 

Chapel,"  this  was  *'  the  first  organ  that 
ever  pealed  to  the  glory  of  God  in  this 
country." 

Yet  even  more  interesting  than  the  old 
church  and  its  chapel  on  State  Street  is 
the  parish  burying-gronnd  of  St.  John's. 
Here  rest  the  remains  of  the  highest  and 
noblest  men  and  women  in  N^ew  Hamp- 
shire's colonial  annals.  For  all  who  served 
in  public  position  or  exercised  authority 
by  appointment  or  permission  of  the 
Crown  felt  in  duty  bound  in  those  early 
days  to  worship  at  an  English  church. 
And  from  there  they  were  buried. 

The  Wentworths'  tomb  is  in  the  centre 
of  the  yard,  and  here,  linked  with  his 
governor's  family  in  death  as  in  life, 
repose  to-day  the  remains  of  the  Reverend 
Arthur  Browne,  who,  in  1773,  soon  after 
the  death  of  his  aged  wife,  Mary,  —  whom 


97 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

he  had  married  in  his  native  Drogheda 
when  he  was  only  her  father's  curate,  — 
cheerfully  laid  down  his  happy,  well- 
spent  life. 


COURTSHIP  ACCORDING  TO 
SAMUEL  SEWALL 

rHERE  is  almost  no  story  of  early 
New  England  life  that  one  can- 
not connect  with  the  Old  Sonth 
Meeting-House  in  Boston.  The  thing  that 
perplexes  is  which  to  choose.  For  the 
building  has  been  the  scene  of  many  great 
historical  crises,  during  which  affairs  have 
been  guided  by  some  of  the  foremost  men 
in  the  annals  of  our  country.  Its  site 
is  also  famous  as  that  of  the  home  of 
Governor  John  Winthrop,  and  it  was  here 
that  the  governor  died  March  26,  1649. 
Subsequent  to  this  event  the  land  was 
owned  by  Madam  Mary  Norton  (wife  of 

99 


OLD   NEW   EJ^GLAND   CHURCHES 

Reverend  John  Norton),  who  gave  it  in 
trust  for  ever  "  for  the  erecting  of  a  house 
for  their  assembling  themselves  together 
publiquely  to  worship  God." 

The  first  meeting-house  on  the  spot  was 
a  little  cedar  one,  erected  in  1669,  This 
stood  until  1729,  when  it  was  removed  to 
make  way  for  the  present  structure  of 
brick,  built  by  Joshua  Blanchard  and 
dedicated  April  26,  1730.  In  the  pres- 
ent building  it  was  some  years  later  (Nov- 
ember 27,  1773)  that  a  meeting  of  five 
thousand  citizens  decided  that  the  odious 
tea  should  not  land ;  and  a  few  weeks  after- 
ward, on  December  16th,  seven  thousand 
men  sat  in  the  church  until  after  candle- 
light, and,  when  the  messengers  returned 
from  Governor  Hutchinson  at  Milton  with 
the  word  that  that  official  refused  redress, 
a  body  of  them  raised  the  war-whoop  at  the 
door  and,  disguised  as  savages,  rushed 
100 


THK     OLI>     SOUl'll     (    IM    ItCH,     JJOSION,     MASS. 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

from  the  sacred  edifice  to  GrijSin's  Wharf, 
there  to  celebrate  the  Great  American  Tea 
Party. 

Yet  it  is  not  of  the  history  of  the  Old 
South  Meeting-House  that  I  mean  to  write, 
for  many  people  have  done  that  interest- 
ingly and  well.  Rather  do  I  choose  to 
twine  about  the  walls  of  this  old  building 
the  clinging  ivy  of  one  man's  life-story,  the 
man  selected  being  Judge  Samuel  Sewall, 
the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all,  who,  in 
1696,  stood  up  manfully  in  his  pew  at 
this  church  while  his  confession  of  wrong 
in  accepting  "  spectral  evidence  "  during 
the  witchcraft  trials  at  Salem  *  was  read 
aloud  by  one  of  the  ministers. 

It  is  always  of  Sewall  that  I  think  when 
I  go  to  the  Old  South  Church  —  though  I 
know  perfectly  well  that  he  made  his  con- 
fession   in    the    old    cedar    meeting-house 
1  See  "  Romance  of  Old  New  England  Roof  trees." 

101 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

which  preceded  this  brick  structure  —  and 
that  he  died  just  before  the  present  build- 
ing was  dedicated.  But  I  can  fancy  how 
excited  he  must  have  gi'own  in  his  old 
age  over  the  elaborate  preparations  neces- 
sary to  the  erection  of  so  fine  a  church  as 
this  so  long  ago  as  1730,  and  I  like  to 
think  of  the  things  he  must  have  written 
down  somewhere  about  the  undertaking,  — 
in  accordance  with  his  lifelong  habit  of 
diary-keeping.  Moreover,  when  all  is  said, 
it  was  this  very  place  that  Sewall  fre- 
quented and  this  very  spot  which  he  hal- 
lowed by  that  noble  confession  and  by  the 
sternly  kept  fast  days  that  followed.  Tlie 
letters  "  S.  S."  on  the  stone  at  the  north- 
west comer  may  be  held  to  do  him  fitting 
reverence  for  these  brave  acts.  Here,  too, 
it  was  that  he  was  wont  to  come  with  his 
blooming  wife  Hannah,  the  daughter  of 
Captain  John  Hull,  Mintmaster,  and  here 
102 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

that  he  used  to  listen  with  scarcely  con- 
cealed pride  to  the  sermons  of  "  son 
Joseph,"  of  which  his  famous  diary  says 
so  much.  It  was  likewise  here  that  as  an 
old  man  he  cast  sheep's  eyes  at  the  women 
"  in  the  Fore  Seat  "  eligible  to  gladden  his 
desolate  hearth.  And  while  walking  home 
from  worship  in  this  place  it  was  that  he 
weighed,  as  we  shall  see,  the  comparative 
merits  of  the  ladies  in  question. 

In  Hawthorne's  fascinating  accoimt  of 
Samuel  Sewall's  first  courtship  occurs  this 
important  sentence :  "  The  mintmaster  was 
especially  pleased  with  his  new  son-in-law 
because  he  had  courted  Miss  Betsy  out  of 
pure  love  and  had  said  nothing  at  all 
about  her  portion."  It  is  good  for  us  to 
remember  that  passage  when  we  read  the 
stories  of  Judge  Sewall's  later  courtships. 
For  the  fact  that  the  first  marriage  was  one 
of  purely  romantic  love  —  even  if  Sewall 

103 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

did  get  his  wife's  weight  in  pine-tree  shil- 
lings when  he  got  her  —  rather  takes  the 
taint  of  the  sordid  from  the  later  episodes. 
There  is  no  need  to  tell  at  length  the  pretty 
story  of  Betsy  Hull,  for  it  has  become  a 
part  of  American  tradition.  John  Hull, 
we  all  remember,  had  been  made  mint- 
master  of  the  colony  and  had  grown  very 
rich.  Then  one  day  a  fine  young  man, 
Samuel  Sewall  by  name,  came  courting 
his  daughter,  and,  meeting  the  require- 
ments of  the  situation  as  to  character  and 
education,  was  readily  given  the  consent  of 
the  fair  one's  fond  father.  This  father  had 
replied  to  the  ardent  youth's  suit,  as  a  bluff 
parent  of  the  period  well  enough  might, 
"  Take  her,  but  you'll  find  her  a  heav;^' 
enough  burden."  "  Yet  when  the  wedding 
ceremony  was  over,"  according  to  the  tale 
of  the  Great  American  Romancer,  "  the 
bridegroom  was  given  a  surprise  which 
104 


OLD   KEW  EIvTGLAND   CHURCHES 

made   him   rejoice    indeed   that   the    new 
Mrs.  Sewall  was  a  plmnp  young  woman. 

''  Captain  Hull  whispered  a  word  or 
two  to  his  men  servants,  who  immediately 
went  out  and  soon  returned,  lugging  in  a 
large  pair  of  scales.  They  were  such  a 
pair  as  wholesale  merchants  use  for  weigh- 
ing bulky  commodities ;  and  quite  a  bulky 
commodity  was  now  to  be  weighed  in  them. 

"  '  Daughter  Betsy,'  said  the  mintmas- 
ter,  '  get  into  one  side  of  these  scales.' 

"  Miss  Betsy  —  or  Mrs.  Sewall,  as  we 
must  now  call  her  —  did  as  she  was  bid 
like  a  dutiful  daughter  without  any  ques- 
tion of  the  why  and  wherefore.  But  what 
her  father  could  mean  unless  to  make  her 
husband  pay  for  her  by  the  pound  (in 
which  case  she  would  have  been  a  dear 
bargain),  she  had  not  the  least  idea. 

"  '  And  now,'  said  honest  John  Hull  to 
the  servants,  '  bring  that  box  hither.' 

105 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

"  The  box  to  which  the  mintmaster 
pointed  was  a  huge  square  iron-bound 
oaken  chest;  .  .  .  The  servants  tugged 
with  might  and  main,  but  could  not  lift 
this  enormous  receptacle,  and  w^ere  finally 
obliged  to  drag  it  across  the  floor.  Cap- 
tain Hull  then  took  a  key  from  his  girdle, 
unlocked  the  chest,  and  lifted  its  ponder- 
ous lid.  Behold  !  it  was  full  to  the  brim 
of  bright  pine-tree  shillings  fresh  from 
the  mint ;  .  .  .  Then  the  servants,  at  Cap- 
tain Hull's  command,  heaped  double  hand- 
fuls  of  shillings  into  one  side  of  the  scales 
while  Betsy  remained  in  the  other. 

"  '  There,  son  Sewall !  '  cried  the  honest 
mintmaster,  when  the  weights  balanced, 
'  take  those  shillings  for  my  daughter's 
portion.  Use  her  kindly  and  thank  Heaven 
for  her.  It  is  not  every  wife  that  is  worth 
her  weight  in  silver.'  " 

Well  might  Father  Hull  give  to  young 
106 


STAIUCASE    IX    fOVKNTRY    HALL,    YORK,    ME. 


I 


OLD   N^EW  EXGLAXD   CHURCHES 

Sewall  this  fortune  in  pine-tree  silver. 
For  the  youth  was  one  of  the  most  promis- 
ing in  all  the  colony,  and  at  Harvard,  as 
in  the  life  of  Boston  Town,  had  already 
made  a  bit  of  a  name  for  himself.  He  came, 
too,  of  stock  wont  to  succeed  in  life.  His 
family  were  distinguished  Coventry  folk, 
and  father  and  son  of  them  had  for  genera- 
tions been  mayors  of  the  quaint  and  beau- 
tiful city.  Coventry  Hall,  still  standing  at 
York,  Maine,  is  modelled  after  the  old 
home  in  England.  Samuel  Sewall  himself 
had  been  born  in  Bishopstoke,  England, 
but  had  early  come  to  this  coimtry  with 
his  parents,  and  had  been  brought  up  in 
Newbury.  In  due  time  he  went  to  the 
college  at  Cambridge,  and  from  that  in- 
stitution he  received  his  bachelor's  degree 
in  1667.  In  a  letter  written  to  his  son 
when  Joseph  was  a  grown  man  Samuel 
Sewall  speaks  thus   of  his  college  com- 

107, 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

mencement:  "  In  1674  I  took  my  second 
degree,  and  Mrs.  Hannah  Hull,  my  dear 
wife,  your  honoured  mother,  was  invited 
by  Doctor  Hoar  and  his  lady  (her  kins- 
folk) to  be  with  them  awhile  at  Cam- 
bridge. She  saw  me  when  I  took  my  de- 
gree and  set  her  affection  on  me,  though 
I  knew  nothing  of  it  until  after  our  mar- 
riage, which  was  February  28,  1675 — 76. 
Governor  Bradstreet  married  us." 

How  the  youthful  parson  (for  Samuel 
Sewall  had  preached  a  little  before  his 
marriage,  though  he  entered  public  life 
soon  after  that  event)  conducted  his  first 
courtship  we  have  no  knowledge.  Prob- 
ably at  this  stage  of  his  life  he  confided 
to  his  beloved  one  rather  than  to  his 
diary  his  fervid  emotions.  There  is  in- 
deed a  notable  lack  of  entries  about  the 
time  of  the  marriage,  and  it  is  only  after 
he  has  become  a  good  and  solicitous  hus- 
108 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

band  that  every  detail  of  his  and  his  wife's 
life  is  put  down  in  the  quaint  old  pages 
of  this  book,  —  which  shows  us  better  than 
does  any  other  document  extant  the  real 
social  life  of  the  time. 

The  births  of  the  many  little  children 
that  came  to  the  proud  parents,  the  details 
of  the  husband's  wonderful  trip  abroad, 
which  occupied  most  of  the  year  1688,  and 
the  circuit  journeys  for  the  discharge  of 
his  judicial  duties,  are  all  constantly  re- 
ferred to  in  this  volume.  And  there  we 
can  follow,  too,  the  differences  in  the  light- 
hearted  bridegroom  as  the  years  went  past 
that  changed  him  into  the  merciless  perse- 
cutor of  the  witches. 

Then  there  came  a  time  when  child  after 
child  bom  to  Hannah  and  Samuel  Sewall 
died  in  convulsions.  The  diary  abounds  in 
references  to  the  illnesses  of  these  little 
sufferers  (who,  strangely  enough,  were  one 

109 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

after  another  called  ''  Hiillie "  for  the 
good  mintmaster  grandfather),  Judge 
Sewall  seeming  to  feel  that  the  judgment  of 
Heaven  was  being  visited  upon  his  children 
because  he  had  sent  innocent  little  ones 
to  death  during  the  Salem  trials.  So  in 
January,  1696,  he  put  up  his  "  bill  "  in 
the  Old  South  Meeting-House,  and  stood 
with  bowed  head  while  it  was  read.  Dur- 
ing the  remainder  of  his  life  he  spent  one 
day  annually  in  fasting,  meditation,  and 
prayer  in  remembrance  of  his  sin. 

After  this  the  tide  of  his  life  turned 
for  awhile;  on  September  16,  1713,  he  had 
the  great  joy  of  seeing  his  dear  son  Joseph, 
a  fine  youth  of  twenty-five  years,  ordained 
as  the  colleague  at  the  Old  South  Church 
of  Minister  Ebenezer  Pemberton.  The 
satisfaction  the  portly  and  successful 
father  took  in  the  sermons  of  this  minister 
son  inspire  some  of  the  most  satisfying 
110 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

pages  of  the  diary,  and  one  likes  very 
much  to  think  of  Judge  Sewall  at  this 
stage  of  his  life,  going  to  the  old  meeting- 
house with  his  dear  wife  Hannah  on  his 
arm,  to  hear  "  our  son  Joseph  put  up  a 
fine  prayer,"  or  "  preach  a  stirring  word." 

Then  came  the  blow  of  the  man's  life, 
a  blow  from  which  he  never  fully  recov- 
ered. For  I  cannot  believe  that  the  rather 
self-conscious  old  gentleman  forever  tak- 
ing his  own  emotional  temperature,  so  to 
speak,  is  Samuel  Sewall  at  his  best.  But 
I  readily  enough  forgive  him  his  incessant 
self-analysis,  inasmuch  as  by  reason  of  it 
we  get  the  only  authentic  picture  we  pos- 
sess of  the  way  in  which  the  middle-aged 
wooings  of  colonial  days  were  conducted. 

Judge  Sewall's  wife  Hannah  died  Oc- 
tober 19,  171 Y.  She  had  been  for  some 
time  in  a  decline,  aggravated,  probably, 
by  some  sort  of  malarial  fever;    as  far 

111 


OLD   ^^EW  EXGLA^^D   CHURCHES 

back  as  July  3d  her  husband  notes  that 
he  has  been  kept  from  commencement  by 
his  wife's  being  taken  very  sick  the  night 
before.  "  This  is  the  second  year  of  niy 
absence  from  that  solemnity." 

So  with  the  usual  Puritan  solemnities 
of  prayer  and  fast,  the  household  waited 
on  this  exemplary  wife  and  mother,  mak- 
ing her  exit.  "  About  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  past  four,  my  dear  wife  expired  in 
the  afternoon,  whereby  the  chamber  was 
filled  with  a  flood  of  tears.  God  is  teach- 
ing me  a  new  lesson  —  to  lead  a  widower's 
life.  Lord  help  me  to  learn,  and  be  a  sun 
and  shield  to  me,  now  so  much  of  my  com- 
fort and  defence  are  taken  away." 

I^ext  day  he  writes: 

"  I  go  to  the  public  worship  forenoon 
and  afternoon.     My  son  has  much  ado  to 
read  the  note  I  put  up,  being  overwhelmed 
with  tears." 
112 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

Sewall  was  sincere  with  all  his  great 
loving  heart  in  his  sorrow  for  this  wife  of 
his  youth  and  strong  manhood,  and  he  kept 
her  memory  in  love  till  his  death's  day  in 
spite  of  repeated  wooings  to  argue  the 
contrary.  But  it  was  expected,  with  the 
rigour  of  a  law  in  the  Puritan  land,  that 
widows  and  widowers  should  remarry. 
They  all  did  it,  and  not  to  do  it  was  a 
social  offence.  Apparently  they  all  helped 
each  other  to  do  it,  and  for  a  man  in 
Judge  Sewall's  social  station,  there  was 
no  chance  of  escape.  Nor,  truth  to  say, 
did  Sewall  try  to  find  one.  Accordingly, 
we  soon  read  of  his  attentions  to  Mrs. 
Dennison,  —  who  refused  him  because  he 
wanted  too  liberal  a  settlement,  —  to  Mrs. 
Tilly,  another  blooming  widow,  and  even 
to  other  ladies  of  name  and  position.  Mrs. 
Tilly  was  his  final  choice,  however,  and 
on  October  29,  1719,  these  two  were  mar- 

113 


OLD   NEW  EI^GLAI^D   CHURCHES 

ried,  with  the  usual  Puritan  festivities, 
by  the  judge's  son,  Mr.  Joseph  Sewall. 
The  judge  was  now  chief  justice  of  Massa- 
chusetts, and  had  been  two  long  years  a 
widower.  Xot  to  make  further  mention 
of  a  lady  who,  though  his  wife,  seems  to 
us  to  have  been  hardly  more  than  a  shadow 
in  Sewall's  real  life,  albeit  she  was  an  ex- 
emplary woman,  it  may  be  noted  that  she 
died  suddenly  May  26,  1720. 

Sewall's  opinion  of  this  wife  is  in  a 
letter : 

"  She,  my  wife,  carries  it  very  tenderly, 
and  is  very  helpful  to  me,  my  children,  and 
grandchildren." 

After  Mrs.  Tilly's  funeral  there  is  no 
record  of  any  marital  movement  on 
Sewall's  part  until  October  1st  —  four 
months  only  of  mourning  now !  —  when  he 
writes : 

"  Saturday  I  dine  at  Mr.  Stoddard's ; 
114 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

from  thence  I  went  to  Madam  Winthrop's 
jnst  at  three.  Spake  to  her,  saying,  my  lov- 
ing wife  died  so  soon  and  so  suddenly, 
'twas  hardly  convenient  (seemly)  for  me  to 
think  of  marrying  again ;  however  I  came 
to  this  resolution  that  I  would  not  make  any 
court  to  any  person  without  first  consulting 
with  her.  [Madam  Winthrop.]  Had  a 
pleasant  discourse  about  seven  single  per- 
sons sitting  in  the  Eore  Seat  [of  the  Old 
South  Meeting-House]  Septt.  29  [the  Sun- 
day before],  viz.  Madam  Kebecca  Dudley, 
Catharine  Winthrop  [the  lady  before  him], 
Bridget  Usher,  Deliverance  Legg,  Rebecca 
Loyd,  Lydia  Colman,  Elizabeth  Belling- 
ham.  She  propounded  one  and  another 
for  me:  but  none  would  do,  said  Mrs. 
Loyd  was  about  her  age." 

This  conference  with  Mrs.  Winthrop 
was  the  first  of  the  many  in  this  the  most 
entertaining  colonial  courtship  of  which 

115 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

we  have  record.  Sewall  was  now  sixtv- 
nine  and  the  lady  fifty-six,  twice  married 
before  and  with  grown-up  children. 

"  Octr.  2.  Evening.  Waited  on  Madam 
Winthrop  again ;  'twas  a  little  while  be- 
fore she  came  in.  Her  daughter  Noyes 
being  there  alone  with  me,  I  said  I  hoped 
my  waiting  on  her  mother  would  not  be 
disagreeable  to  her.  She  answered  she 
should  not  be  against  that  that  might  be 
for  her  comfort.  By  and  by  came  in  Mr. 
Airs,  chaplain  of  the  Castle,  and  hanged 
up  his  hat,  which  I  was  a  little  startled 
at,  it  seeming  as  if  he  was  to  lodge  there. 
At  last  Madam  Winthrop  came  too.  After 
a  considerable  time  I  went  up  to  her  and 
said,  if  it  might  not  be  inconvenient  I 
wished  to  speak  with  her.  She  assented 
and  spake  of  going  into  another  room ;  but 
Mr.  Airs  and  Mrs.  Noyes  presently  rose 
up  and  went  out,  leaving  us  there  alone. 
116 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUKCHES 

Then  I  ushered  in  discourse  from  the 
names  in  the  Fore  Seat;  at  last  I  prayed 
that  Katharine  (Madam  Winthrop)  might 
be  the  person  assigned  for  me.  She  in- 
stantly took  it  up  in  the  way  of  denial, 
as  if  she  had  catched  at  an  opportunity 
to  so  do  it,  saying,  she  could  not  do  it 
before  she  was  asked.  Said  that  it  was 
her  mind,  unless  she  should  change  it, 
which  she  believed  she  could  not  —  could 
not  leave  her  children.  I  expressed  my 
sorrow  that  she  should  do  it  so  speedily, 
prayed  her  consideration,  and  asked  her 
when  I  should  wait  on  her  again.  She 
saying  no  time,  I  mentioned  that  day  Sen- 
night. Gave  her  Mr.  Willard's  '  Fountain 
Opened,'  with  the  little  print  and  verses; 
saying  I  hoped  if  we  did  well  read  that 
book,  we  should  meet  together  hereafter, 
if  we  did  not  now.  She  took  the  book 
and  put  it  in  her  pocket.     Took  leave. 

117 


OLD  XEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

Oct.  5.  Midweek.  Although  I  had  ap- 
pointed to  wait  upon  her,  Madam  Win- 
throp,  next  Monday,  yet  I  went  from  my 
Cousin's  Sewall's  thither  about  next  Mon- 
day about  3.  The  nurse  told  me 
Madam  dined  abroad  at  her  daughter 
Noyes,  they  went  to  go  out  together.  Gave 
Kate€  a  penny  and  a  kiss  and  came  away." 
"  Oct.  6.  A  little  after  6  p.  m.  I  went 
to  Madam  Winthrop's.  She  was  not 
within.  I  gave  the  maid  2s. ;  Juno,  who 
brought  in  wood,  Is.  After  the  nurse 
came  in,  I  gave  her  18d.  having  no  other 
small  bill.  After  a  while  Dr.  Xoyes 
came  in  with  his  mother  and  quickly  after 
his  wife.  They  sat  talking,  I  think,  till 
8  o'clock.  I  said  I  feared  I  might  be 
some  interruption  to  their  business.  Dr. 
Noyes  replied  presently.  They  feared 
they  might  be  some  interruption  to  MY 
business  and  went  away.  Madam  seemed 
118 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

to  harp  upon  the  same  string,  must  take 
care  of  her  children,  could  not  leave  that 
house  and  neighbourhood,  etc.  I  gave  her 
a  piece  of  Mr.  Belcher's  cake  and  ginger- 
bread wrapped  up  in  a  clean  piece  of 
paper.  My  daughter  Judith  I  said  waa 
gone  from  me  and  I  was  more  lonesome, — 
might  help  to  for^vard  one  another  in  our 
journey  to  Canaan.  I  took  leave  about 
nine  o'clock." 

"  October  11th.  I  write  a  few  lines 
to  Madam  Winthrop  to  this  purpose: 
Madam :  —  These  wait  on  you  with  Mr. 
Mayhew's  sermon  and  an  account  of  the 
state  of  the  Indians  of  Martha's  Vineyard. 
I  thank  you  for  your  unmerited  favours  of 
yesterday  [she  had  given  him  wine  mar- 
malade, etc.],  and  hoped  to  have  the  happi- 
ness of  waiting  on  you  tomorrow  before 
eight  o'clock  afternoon.  I  praye  God  to 
keep  you  and  give  you  a  joyful  entrance 

119 


OLD   NEW  EJS^GLAND   CHURCHES 

upon  the  229th  year  of  Christopher  Co- 
lumbus, his  discovery,  and  take  leave,  to 
add.  Madam,  your  humble  serv't. 

"  s.  s." 
"  Sent  this  day  by  Deacon  Green." 
"  Oct.  12.  In  the  little  room  Madam 
Winthrop  was  full  of  work  behind  a  stand. 
Mrs.  Cotton  came  in  and  stood.  Madam 
pointed  to  her  to  set  me  a  chair.  Her 
countenance  looked  dark  and  lowering.  At 
last  the  work  [black  stuff  of  silk]  was 
taken  away.  I  got  my  chair  in  place,  had 
some  converse,  but  [she]  very  cold  and  in- 
different to  what  [she]  was  before.  [I] 
Asked  [her]  to  acquit  me  of  rudeness  if  I 
drew  off  her  glove.  Enquiring  the  reason 
I  told  her  'twas  great  odds  between  han- 
dling a  dead  goat  and  a  living  lady.  Got 
it  off!  I  told  her  I  had  one  petition  to 
ask  of  her:  to  wit,  to  change  her  answer. 
She  insisted  on  her  negative.  I  gave  her 
130 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

Dr.  Preston's  '  The  Church's  Marriages 
and  the  Church's  Carriage/  which  cost 
me  6s.  Sarah  filled  a  glass  of  wine,  she 
drank  to  me,  I  to  her.  She  sent  Juno 
home  with  me  with  a  good  lantern.  I 
gave  her  6d.,  and  bade  her  thank  her  mis- 
tress. In  some  of  our  discourse  I  told 
her  [Madam  Winthrop]  the  reason  why 
I  came  every  other  night  was  lest  I  should 
drink  too  deep  draughts  of  pleasure.  She 
talked  of  Canary,  [I  said]  her  kisses  were 
to  me  better  than  the  best  Canary."  Sam- 
uel Sewall  at  sixty -nine  evidently  knew 
how  to  act  the  gallant. 

"  Oct.  17.  In  the  evening  I  visited 
Madam  Winthrop,  who  treated  me  cour- 
teously, but  not  in  clean  linen  as  some- 
times. She  said  she  did  not  know  whether 
I  would  come  again  or  no.  [He  had  been 
five  days  absent!]  I  asked  her  how  she 
could  impute  inconstancy  to  me.    Give  her 

121 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAND  CHURCHES 

this  day's  Gazette.  Hear  David  Geoffry's 
(her  little  grandson)  say  the  Lord's  Prayer 
and  some  other  portions  of  the  Scriptures. 
Juno  came  home  with  me." 

"  Oct.  18.  Visited  Madam  Mico  who 
came  to  me  in  a  splendid  dress.  I  said, 
It  may  be  you  have  heard  of  my  visiting 
Madam  Winthrop,  her  sister.  She  an- 
swered, Her  sister  had  told  her  of  it.  If 
her  sister  were  for  it  [the  match]  she 
should  not  hinder  it.  I  gave  her  Mr. 
Holmes'  sermon.  She  gave  me  a  glass  of 
Canary.  Entertained  me  with  good  dis- 
course and  a  respective  remembrance  of 
my  first  wife.    I  took  leave." 

This  is  the  lady  who,  some  suggest, 
would  have  listened  to  Sewall's  suit  more 
patiently  than  did  her  sister.  "  The 
splendid  dress "  in  which  Sewall  notes 
she  came  to  him,  certainly  gives  one  a 
hint  of  interest  on  her  part. 
122 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUKCHES 

"  Oct.  19.  Visited  Madam  Winthrop. 
Sarah  told  me  she  was  at  Mrs.  Walley's. 
Would  not  come  home  till  late.  Was  ready 
to  go  home,  but  said  if  I  knew  she  was 
there  I  would  go  thither.  I  went  and 
found  her  with  Mr.  Walley  and  his  wife 
in  the  little  room  below.  At  seven  o'clock 
I  mentioned  going  home;  at  eight  I  put 
on  my  coat  and  quickly  waited  on  her 
home.  Was  courteous  to  me,  but  took 
occasion  to  speak  to  me  earnestly  about  my 
keeping  a  coach.  I  said  'twould  cost  £100 
per  annum.  She  said  'twould  cost  but 
£46." 

"  Oct.  20.  Madam  Winthrop  not  being 
at  lecture,  I  went  thither  first ;  found  her 
very  serene  with  her  daughter  Noyes,  etc. 
She  drank  to  me,  and  I  to  Mrs.  Noyes. 
After  awhile  prayed  the  favour  to  speak 
with  her.  She  took  one  of  the  candles  and 
went  into  the  best  room,  closed  the  shutters, 

123 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAND  CHURCHES 

and  sat  down  upon  the  couch.  She  spoke 
something  of  my  needing  a  wig.  I  took 
my  leave." 

"  Oct.  21.  My  Son  [the  parson]  and  I 
pray  for  one  another  in  the  old  chamber, 
more  especially  respecting  my  courtship. 
At  six  o'clock  I  go  to  Madam  Winthrops. 
Sarah  told  me  her  mistress  had  gone  out, 
but  did  not  tell  me  whither  she  went.  She 
presently  ordered  me  a  fire ;  so  I  went  in 
having  Dr.  Sibb's  '  Bowells '  with  me  to 
read.  [This  was  a  book  on  'The  Dis- 
covery of  the  Union  between  Christ  and 
the  Church.'].  A  while  after  nine, 
Madam  came  in.  I  mentioned  something 
of  the  lateness ;  she  bantered  me  and  said 
I  was  later.  I  asked  her  when  our  pro- 
ceedings should  be  made  public.  She  said 
they  were  like  to  be  no  more  public  than 
they  were  already.  Offered  me  no  wine 
that  I  remember.  I  rose  up  at  eleven 
124 


OLD   NEW  EIs^GLAND   CHURCHES 

o'clock  to  come  away,  saying  that  I  would 
put  on  my  coat.  She  offered  not  to  help 
me.  I  prayed  that  Juno  might  light  me 
home,  she  opened  the  shutter  and  said 
was  pretty  light  abroad ;  Juno  was  weary 
and  gone  to  bed.  So  I  came  home  by  star- 
light as  well  as  I  could.  Jehovah  Jirah. 
The  Lord  reigneth." 

"  Oct.  24.  As  to  my  periwig  I  told  her 
my  best  and  greatest  friend  (I  could  not 
possibly  have  a  greater)  began  to  find  me 
with  hair  before  I  was  bom  and  had  con- 
tinued to  do  so  ever  since,  and  I  could  not 
find  it  in  my  heart  to  go  to  another.  She 
gave  me  a  dram  of  black  cherry  brandy 
and  lump  of  the  sugar  that  was  in  it." 

"  Nov.  4.  I  asked  Madam  what  fashion 
necklace  I  shall  present  her  with.  She 
said  none  at  all.  I  asked  her  whereabouts 
we  left  off  last  time;  mentioned  what  I 
had  offered  to  give  her  [as  a  settlement]  ; 

125 


OLD  Is^EW  E^^GLAXD   CHUECHES 

asked  her  what  she  would  give  me.  She 
said  she  could  not  change  her  condition, 
and  had  said  so  from  the  beginning." 

"  'Nov.  7.  I  went  to  Madam  Winthrop ; 
found  her  rocking  her  little  Katie  in  the 
cradle.  She  set  me  an  armed  chair  and 
a  cushion.  Gave  her  the  remnants  of  my 
almonds.  She  did  not  eat  of  them  as  be- 
fore, but  laid  them  away.  Asked  if  she 
remained  of  the  same  mind  still.  She 
said  thereabouts.  I  told  her  I  loved  her, 
and  was  so  fond  as  to  think  that  she  loved 
me.  The  fire  was  come  to  one  short  brand 
beside  the  block,  which  brand  was  set  up 
on  end;  at  last  it  fell  to  pieces,  and  no 
recruit  was  made.  She  gave  me  a  glass 
of  wine.  I  did  not  bid  her  draw  off  her 
glove,  as  sometime  I  had  done.  Her  dress 
was  not  so  clean  as  sometime  it  had  been. 
The  Lord  reigneth." 

And  so  with  the  one  black  brand  on  a 
126 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAND  CHURCHES 

fireless  hearth  the  curtain  falls  on  Sewall's 
courtship  of  Madam  Winthrop.  Soon  after 
he  married  Mrs.  Gibbs. 

The  rocks  on  which  Sewall's  matri- 
monial venture  here  split  apparently  were 
several.  He  would  not  agree  to  set  up  a 
coach,  claiming  he  could  not  afford  it,  nor 
wear  a  periwig,  as  Madam  wished ;  he  had 
tried  to  drive  a  close-fisted  bargain  in 
the  marriage  settlement,  and  perhaps 
had  sought  to  meddle  with  the  status 
of  her  slaves.  Above  all,  the  lady 
was,  as  she  said,  averse  to  separation  from 
her  kin  and  grandchildren.  So  this  court- 
ship lapsed,  apparently  with  no  ill-will  on 
either  side.  There  are  entries  in  the  diary 
later  on  which  look  like  willingness  on 
Madam  Winthrop's  part  to  leave  the  door 
just  a  trifle  ajar ;  but  Sewall  went  another 
way.  There  is  one  entry,  however,  of  the 
few  more  concerning  her,   made  on  the 

127 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

Lord's  Day,  December  6,  1724,  which 
quaintly  illustrates  the  man  and  the  times : 

"  At  the  Lord's  Supper  [in  the  Old 
South  Meeting-House]  Deacon  Cheekily 
delivered  the  cup  first  to  Madam  Winthrop 
and  then  gave  me  a  tankard.  'Twas  hu- 
miliation to  me  and  I  think  put  me  to  the 
hlush  to  have  this  injustice  done  by  a  Jus- 
tice.   May  all  be  sanctified." 

In  this  precedency  of  the  cup  to  Madam 
Winthrop,  Sewall  evidently  saw  a  slight 
to  his  magistracy. 

"  June  15,  1725.  I  accompanied  my 
son  [the  minister]  to  Madam  Winthrop. 
She  was  abed  about  ten,  morning.  [Slie 
was  evidently  in  her  last  sickness.]  I 
told  her  I  found  my  son  coming  to  her 
and  took  the  opportunity  to  come  with 
him.  She  thanked  me  kindly  and  enquired 
how  Madam  Sewall  [her  successor  was 
already  established]  did.  Asked  my  son 
128 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

to  go  to  prayer.  At  coming  I  said,  I  kiss 
your  hand,  Madam.  She  desired  me  to 
pray  that  God  would  lift  up  upon  her  the 
light  of  his  countenance." 

The  last  three  entries  touching  Madam 
Winthrop  are  these: 

"  Monday,  Aug.  2d.  Mrs.  Catharine 
Winthrop,  relict  of  the  Hono.  Waitstill 
Winthrop,  Esq.,  died  M.  61." 

Her  fomier  wooer,  who  was  one  of  her 
bearers  at  the  funeral,  notes :  "  [She]  will 
be  much  missed."  And  after  the  funeral 
the  old  man  made  a  wedding  call,  "  and 
had  good  bride-cake,  good  wine.  Burgundy 
and  Canary,  good  beer,  oranges,  and 
pears."  So  to  the  very  end  —  he  died 
January  1,  1730,  aged  eighty  —  Samuel 
Sewall  enjoyed  himself.  His  career  serves 
indeed  to  make  clear,  as  does  no  other 
chronicle  that  has  come  down  to  us,  that 
a  Puritan  church-member  was  not  of  ne- 
cessity a  long-faced  killjoy.  129 


JOHN  ELIOT  AND  HIS  INDIANS 

#■  Z\^HEN  Dean  Stanley  came  to 
§^m^  this  country  and  was  asked 
what  places  would  be  of  most 
interest  to  him,  he  said :  "  I  want  to  see 
the  place  where  the  Pilgrims  landed  and 
where  the  Apostle  Eliot  preached."  Our 
picture  shows  us  the  latter  —  not  the  same 
church,  of  course,  but  the  same  site,  and 
itself  one  of  the  best  surviving  examples 
of  the  famous  New  England  Meeting- 
House.  Like  John  Harvard,  the  founder 
of  the  University,  John  Eliot,  the  Apostle 
to  the  Indians,  was  educated  at  Cambridge, 
England.  The  birthplace  of  this  remark- 
able man  was  the  town  of  Nasing,  in 
130 


1 


OI.1)    rUlKCH    ON     THK    SITK    WIIKRK    JOHN    ELIOT 
PKEACHKD 


OLD   ^EW  EN'GLAND   CHUECHES 

Essex,  and  the  year  of  his  coming  into 
the  world,  1604.  As  early  as  during  his 
student  life  it  is  recorded  that  Eliot  had 
a  partiality  for  philological  inquiries,  and 
was  an  acute  grammarian,  a  turn  of  mind, 
we  may  suppose,  which  afterward  had  its 
influence  in  stimulating  and  directing  his 
labours  on  the  language  of  the  Indians. 
Upon  leaving  the  university,  young  Eliot 
engaged  in  school-teaching.  This  profes- 
sion bore  early  in  the  seventeenth  century 
the  stigma  of  trade,  and,  like  other  trades 
in  England,  was  looked  down  upon.  Cot- 
ton Mather,  Eliot's  first  biographer, 
labours  hard  to  prove  to  us  that  his  subject 
is  not  to  be  despised  because  he  once  pur- 
sued the  calling  of  a  teacher  —  and  suc- 
ceeds in  being  very  amusing  in  this  un- 
necessary defence. 

Eliot,  however,  early  felt  stirring  within 
hira  the  desire  to  leave  teaching  for  the 

131 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

work  of  a  minister  of  the  gospel.  In  these 
circumstances,  and  because  he  saw  that 
only  by  self-exile  could  a  parson  of  his 
persuasion  escape  the  searching  tyranny  of 
Laud,  he  turned  his  thoughts  to  the  new 
western  world,  where  a  refuge  had  already 
been  found  by  many  ministers  of  whom 
England  had  rendered  herself  unworthy. 
Thus  it  came  about  that  on  the  third 
of  November,  1631,  our  young  parson 
Eliot  arrived  in  Boston  on  the  good  ship 
Lyon,  the  same  bark  upon  which  the  wife 
and  children  of  Governor  Winthrop  came 
over.  Mr.  Eliot  was  now  twenty-seven 
years  of  age,  and,  though  no  picture  of  him 
at  this  age  is  extant,  there  is  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  he  must  have  looked  much  as  he 
does  in  the  popular  paintings  and  prints, 
grave,  but  gentle  rather  than  Puritanically 
grim,  beardless,  and  lacking,  of  course,  the 
wig  against  which  he  all  his  life  inveighed. 
132 


OLD   IS^EW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

'No  sooner  had  he  landed  than  he  found 
a  field  of  usefulness,  and  was  called  to 
the  work  upon  which  his  heart  was  set. 
When  he  left  England  a  considerable 
number  of  his  friends  in  the  old  country, 
who  loved  him  and  sympathized  in  his 
views,  had  thought  of  following  him  to 
America,  and  to  them  he  had  given  his 
word  that,  if  they  carried  that  plan  into 
effect,  and  should  arrive  in  ISTew  England 
before  he  had  formed  a  regular  pastoral 
connection  with  any  other  church,  he 
would  be  their  minister  and  devote  him- 
self to  their  service.  The  next  year  they 
came  to  claim  the  fulfilment  of  this  pledge, 
and  though  Boston  strove  earnestly  to  ob- 
tain Eliot's  services,  he  was  true  to  his 
bargain,  and  on  the  fifth  of  November, 
1632,  he  began  his  life  tenure  of  the  pas- 
torate of  the  church  at  Roxbury. 

One  other  pledge  Eliot  had  made  in  his 

133 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 


native  land.  This  was  an  engagement  of 
marriage  with  a  beautiful,  sweet-natured 
English  girl,  Ann  Mountford  by  name, 
who  seems  to  have  been  in  every  way 
worthy  of  his  lifelong  affection.  She,  too, 
followed  Eliot  to  JS'ew  England,  and  their 
union  was  consummated  in  October,  1632. 
Thus  John  Eliot  was,  within  a  year  after 
his  first  landing  in  Boston,  happily  settled 
in  the  world,  —  the  vigorous  husband  of 
a  charming  woman,  and  the  gifted  and 
respected  head  of  a  thriving  church. 

Doubtless  there  came  to  him  at  this  time 
of  his  life  many  a  temptation  to  pursue 
the  even  tenor  of  his  pastoral  career,  and 
enjoy,  as  a  man  of  his  nature  would  have 
enjoyed,  the  sweet  domesticity  of  a  well- 
kept  home.  If  he  had  yielded  to  this  temp- 
tation, we  should  have  classed  him  to-day 
with  Higginson  and  Phillips,  with  Cotton 
and  Shepard,  with  Bradford  and  Win- 
134 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

throp,  as  worthy  workers  in  the  upbuilding 
of  the  Massachusetts  Colony.  But  he 
would  not  then  have  towered,  as  he  does 
now,  above  all  his  contemporaries  and 
above  all  other  preachers  ever  settled  in 
New  England  (except,  perhaps,  the  Abbe 
Cheverus),  as  a  man  with  the  exaltation 
to  see  the  vision  of  Indian  conversion  and 
the  steadfast  courage  to  give  his  life  to 
that  vision's  realization. 

When  our  fathers  came  to  the  western 
world  they  found  the  wilderness  peopled 
by  a  race  which  could  not  fail  to  be  objects 
of  strong  interest  apart  from  any  friendly 
or  hostile  relations.  They  had  just  arrived 
from  a  country  abounding  in  all  the  re- 
finements of  the  old  world ;  they  were 
suddenly  brought  into  the  neighbourhood 
of  a  people  exhibiting  the  peculiai-ities  of 
one  of  the  rudest  forms  of  savage  life. 
But  until  John  Eliot  came  —  and  even 

135 


OLD  XEW  EIS^GLAJs^D   CHURCHES 

after  he  came  —  there  was  no  thought  on 
the  part  of  the  community  at  large  to 
share  with  the  Indians  they  encountered 
on  every  side  the  blessings  of  the  gospel 
and  of  civilization.  Our  fathers  treated 
the  red  men  as  allies,  they  treated  them  as 
enemies,  they  sometimes  treated  them  as 
the  beasts  of  the  forest.  But  whether 
beasts  or  men,  they  always  held  them  to  be 
aliens  —  not  merely  aliens  in  blood  and 
in  language,  but  aliens  from  that  universal 
empire  of  God,  of  which  all  human  races 
are  part.  If  Eliot's  experience  with  the 
Indians  proves  anything,  —  and  I  believe 
it  proves  much,  —  it  proves  that  such 
treatment  as  he  bestowed  upon  them,  had 
it  been  ably  seconded  by  all  his  contempo- 
raries, and  energetically  extended  by  those 
who  came  after  him,  would  have  availed 
to  make  the  Indian  a  strong  and  integral 
part  of  our  national  life.  At  this  late 
136 


OLD   ^^EW   ENGLA:^rD   CHURCHES 

date,  after  a  lapse  of  nearly  three  cen- 
turies, there  would  then  have  been  no 
"  Indian  problem."  And  we,  as  a  people, 
would  not  have  to  blush  as  we  do  now 
for  our  treatment  of  this  sturdy  son  of 
the  western  continent.  If  Eliot's  fellow 
ministers  had  given  to  Eliot's  Indians  one 
tithe  —  aye,  one  hundredth  —  of  the  time 
that  they  gave  to  their  theological  quarrels, 
the  historian  would  have  had  very  much 
less  to  apologize  for  in  the  annals  of  the 
Massachusetts  Bay  Colony. 

In  one  of  these  famous  church  agita- 
tions Eliot  himself,  to  be  sure,  was  in- 
volved. He  was  one  of  the  witnesses,  we 
are  informed,  against  Mrs.  Hutchinson  in 
the  synod  which  met  at  Cambridge  in 
November,  1637,  and  condemned  that 
strongly  intellectual,  but  rather  too  self- 
sufficient  lady.^     In  one  other  non-Indian 

1  See  "  Romance  of  Old  New  England  Roof  trees." 

137 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 


enterprise  —  but  this  a  creditable  one  — 
Mr.  Eliot  was  also  engaged  about  this 
time.  For  the  first  book  printed  in  Xorth 
America,  the  Bay  Psalm  Book,  was  versi- 
fied by  Eliot,  Welde,  and  Mather. 

To  return  to  our  Indians.  Much  dis- 
cussion and  no  little  variety  of  statement 
has  been  current  respecting  the  religion 
of  the  red  men.  Winslow  fell  at  first  into 
the  mistake  of  saying  that  they  had  no 
religion  whatever,  but  this  opinion  observa- 
tion obliged  him  very  soon  to  change. 
"  Whereas,"  says  he,  "  myself  and  others 
in  former  letters  wrote,  that  the  Indians 
about  us  are  a  people  without  any  religion, 
or  knowledge  of  any  God,  we  therein  erred, 
though  we  could  then  gather  no  better." 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  religion  of  the 
Indians  in  its  general  features  resembled 
that  of  other  uncivilized  peoples.  They 
recognized  the  divine  power  in  forms  suit- 
138 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

able  to  their  rude  conceptions.  The  devel- 
opments of  this  sentiment  resembled  in 
some  degree  the  polytheism  of  ancient 
times.  Each  part  or  manifestation  of  na- 
ture was  supposed  to  have  its  peculiar, 
subordinate  god.  There  was  the  sun-god, 
the  moon-god,  and  so  of  many  other  things. 
It  is  interesting  here  to  compare  the 
views  on  religion  of  such  of  the  American 
Indians  as  are  still  in  a  native  condition 
with  the  views  of  Eliot's  red  men.  Miss 
Alice  Fletcher,  holder  of  the  Thaw  Fellow- 
ship at  the  Peabody  Museum,  Harvard 
University,  who  knows  more  about  the 
American  Indian  of  to-day  than  almost 
any  other  living  man  or  woman,  tells  me 
that  the  Indian's  religion  has  been  about 
as  little  understood  as  his  use  of  the  totem 
pole.  He  believes  as  we  do,  she  says,  in 
a  great  overruling  power.  This  power, 
however,  cannot,  he  feels,  come  near  man 

139 


OLD   NEW  EiS^GLAND   CHURCHES 

save  to  give  him  breath.  But  there  are 
lesser  powers,  like  the  wind,  and  the 
thunder,  and  these  again  have  other  inter- 
mediaries. The  nearest  approach  to  the 
Indians'  idea  is  to  be  found  in  that  highest 
conception  of  the  Christian  religion,  the 
Immanence  of  God.  In  the  power  of  evil 
the  Indian  has  not  much  belief.  It  is 
man,  in  his  idea,  who  works  mischief. 

One  other  element,  and  that  a  very  im- 
portant one,  entered  into  the  Indians  with 
whom  Eliot  had  to  deal.  This  was  some- 
thing in  the  nature  of  a  priesthood  found 
among  the  New  England  Indians,  an  order 
of  men  and  women  called  Powaws,  the 
common  office  of  whom  was  to  cure  diseases 
by  means  of  herbs,  roots,  exorcisms,  and 
magical  incantations.  This  cross  between 
a  priest  and  a  juggler  was  ultimately  to 
present  a  formidable  obstacle  to  the  spread 
of  Christianity ;  "  for,"  said  the  Indian, 
140 


OLD   NEW  EI^GLAND   CHURCHES 

*'  if  we  once  pray  to  God  we  must  abandon 
our  Powaws,  and  then,  when  we  are  sick 
and  wounded,  who  shall  heal  our  mal- 
adies ? " 

Eliot's  strong  faith  in  the  nobility  and 
necessity  of  his  work  was  sufficient,  how- 
ever, to  overcome  in  large  measure  even 
this  obstacle,  and  as  soon  as  his  hands  were 
sufficiently  held  up  by  the  General  Court 
of  Massachusetts,  he  set  himself  to  the 
task  which  Bishop  Lake,  of  England,  had 
declared  "  nothing  but  old  age  "  prevented 
him  from  going  to  America  to  do.  Eliot 
believed  strongly  that  the  Indians  were 
the  descendants  of  the  lost  tribes  of  Israel, 
and  his  interest  in  their  salvation  was 
naturally  greatly  stimulated  by  this  belief. 
But  back  of  all  theological  ardour  was  the 
good  man's  honest  and  devoted  desire  to 
help  these  people  he  found  all  about  him. 
To  this  end  he  set  himself  to  the  tremen- 

141 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAjSTD   CHURCHES 

dous  task  of  learning  the  Indians'   lan- 
guage. 

"  There  is,"  he  says,  in  a  letter  written 
in  1648,  "  an  Indian  living  with  Mr. 
Richard  Calicott,  of  Dorchester,  who  was 
taken  in  the  Peqiiot  Wars,  though  belong- 
ing to  Long  Island;  this  Indian  is  in- 
genious, can  read ;  and  I  taught  him  to 
write,  which  he  quickly  learnt.  He  was 
the  first  man  that  I  made  use  of  to  teach 
me  words  and  to  be  my  Interpreter."  This 
man  Eliot  took  into  his  family,  and  by 
constant  intercourse  with  him  soon  became 
sufficiently  conversant  with  the  vocabulary 
and  construction  of  the  language  to  trans- 
late the  Ten  Commandments,  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  and  several  passages  of  Scripture 
into  the  Indian  tongue,  besides  being  able 
to  compose  exhortations  and  prayers  in  the 
new  language.  Eliot's  contemporaries 
well  appreciated  the  difficulty  of  this,  his 
142 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

acquirement,  for  Cotton  Mather  remarks 
that  the  "  Indian  language  must  have  been 
growing  in  unintelligibility  ever  since  the 
confusion  at  Babel."  Nothing  but  the 
sustaining  influence  of  an  exalted  purpose, 
one  is  convinced,  could  have  carried  Eliot 
through  the  task  of  learning  such  a  tongue. 
In  the  annals  of  literary  industry  it  is 
related  of  Cato  that  he  acquired  Greek  at 
an  advanced  age,  and  of  Dr.  Johnson  that 
he  studied  Dutch  a  few  years  before  his 
death.  But  neither  of  these  feats  can 
compare  in  arduousness  and  nobility  of 
design  with  John  Eliot's  acquisition  of 
the  Indian  language,  that  he  might  through 
this  means  become  Apostle  to  a  neglected 
people. 

Mr.  Eliot's  first  visit  to  the  Indians  was 
on  the  twenty-eighth  of  October,  1646,  at 
a  place  afterward  called  Nonantum  (a 
part  of  Newton,   Massachusetts),   a  spot 

143 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

which  has  the  honour  of  being  the  first 
on  which  a  civilized  and  Christian  settle- 
ment of  Indians  was  effected  within  the 
English  colonies  of  North  America.  At 
a  short  distance  from  the  wigwams  this 
day  of  Eliot's  first  visit,  he  and  his  party 
were  met  by  Waban,  a  leading  man  among 
the  Indians  at  that  place,  and  were  wel- 
comed wath  English  salutations.  The 
English  of  the  occasion  was  presumably 
furnished  by  Waban's  son,  who  had  some 
time  before  been  placed  at  school  in  Ded- 
ham,  whence  he  had  now  come  to  attend 
the  meeting. 

The  Indians  assembled  in  Waban's 
wigwam,  and  thither  Mr.  Eliot  and  his 
friends  were  conducted.  When  the  com- 
pany were  all  collected  and  quiet,  a  re- 
ligious service  w^as  begun  with  an  English 
prayer.  The  minister  from  Roxbury  then 
began  his  sermon,  taking  his  text  from 
144 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

Ezekiel  37 :  9  and  10 :  "  Say  unto  the 
wind,  son  of  man,  Thus  saith  the  Lord 
God ;  .  .  .  Come  from  the  four  winds, 
0  breath,  and  breathe  upon  these  slain 
that  they  may  live.  So  I  prophesied  as 
he  commanded  me,  and  the  breath  came 
unto  them,  and  they  lived  and  stood  up 
upon  their  feet  an  exceeding  great  army." 
Now  a  very  fortunate  happening  was  con- 
nected, as  it  turned  out,  with  the  selection 
of  this  text,  though  Mr.  Eliot  afterward 
said  that  he  had  no  thought,  when  choosing 
the  Scriptural  basis  for  his  discourse,  that 
the  Indian  word  for  wind  was  Waban.  It 
was,  however,  as  if  he  had  said,  "  Say  to 
Waban,"  and  again,  "  I  said  to  Waban." 
Naturally  the  simple  Indians  took  it  as 
especially  pleasant  that  their  leader  should 
seem  to  be  commissioned  by  the  white 
man's  Holy  Book  to  do  the  work  he  had 
already  begun. 

145 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUKCHES 

The  scene  at  this  first  "Preaching"  is 
one  of  the  most  interesting  and  significant 
in  American  history,  worthy,  certainly, 
of  the  devotion  and  best  work  of  any 
painter.  Our  Massachusetts  artist,  H.  O. 
Walker,  has  chosen  to  give  us,  in  the  mural 
decoration  here  reproduced,  seven  figures, 
some  of  them  standing  and  some  sitting  on 
the  ground.  The  younger  red  men  are  nude 
with  the  exception  of  breech-clouts.  The 
old  men  and  the  squaws  wear  blankets  of 
dull  red  or  dull  green.  The  braves,  of 
which  there  are  several  fine  types,  tall  and 
well  formed,  with  a  proud  bearing,  have 
feather  head-dresses.  Their  weapons  are 
not  conspicuously  displayed.  Most  of 
them  are  phlegmatic  as  to  expression.  At 
the  left  of  the  preacher  is  a  brave  with 
an  unusually  showy  feather  head-dress, 
standing  near  the  trunk  of  a  tree ;  and  two 
or  three  other  figures  are  seated  on  the 
146 


JOHN    KLIOT    PRKACHING    TO    THP:    INDIANS 

From  the  painting  by  H.  O.  Walker 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

ground.  Eliot  himself,  standing  on  a  ledge 
somewhat  higher  than  the  level  which  his 
audience  occupies,  is  dressed  in  severe  dark 
gray  from  head  to  foot,  and  is  bareheaded. 
His  form  is  silhouetted  against  the  foam- 
ing waters  of  the  river  just  beyond  him. 
His  feet  are  wide  apart,  and  both  arms  ai'e 
extended  in  an  easy  gesture  of  exhortation, 
the  palms  of  the  hands  turned  upwards. 
The  deep  earnestness  of  the  preacher 
is  made  sufficiently  evident  by  his  pose 
and  the  movement  of  his  figure,  as  well 
as  by  the  grave  and  ardent  expression  of 
his  countenance.  The  whole  group  is 
framed,  as  it  were,  by  the  stems  of  sturdy 
trees,  the  foliage  of  which,  touched  by  the 
red  and  gold  of  autumn,  indicates  the  sea- 
son —  October.  Here,  then,  was  our  gifted 
scholar,  educated  amidst  the  classic  shades 
of  an  English  university,  exiled  from  his 
native  land  for  conscience'  sake,  a  man 

147 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

of  high  distinction  in  the  chnrches  of  New 
England,  standing  among  the  Indians  of 
the  forest  communicating  Christian  knowl- 
edge. The  figure  of  speech  employed  in 
the  original  narrative  of  this  visit,  states 
that  he  was  "  breaking  the  alabaster  box 
of  precious  ointment  in  the  dark  and 
gloomy  habitations  of  the  unclean." 

The  matter  of  that  first  sermon,  which 
lasted  an  hour  and  a  quarter,  is  of  decided 
interest.  Mr.  Eliot  repeated  the  Ten 
Commandments  with  brief  comments,  and 
set  forth  the  fearful  consequences  of  violat- 
ing them,  with  special  applications  to  the 
condition  of  his  audience.  He  spoke  of 
the  creation  and  fall  of  man,  the  great- 
ness of  God,  the  means  of  salvation  by 
Jesus  Christ,  the  happiness  of  faithful 
believers,  and  the  final  misery  of  the 
wicked,  adding  such  persuasions  to  re- 
pentance  as  he  supposed  might  touch  his 
148 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

hearers'  hearts.  A  fairly  comprehensive 
survey  of  Christian  doctrine,  it  would 
seem  to  us. 

When  the  sermon  was  ended,  Mr.  Eliot 
asked  the  Indians  whether  they  understood 
what  he  had  said.  Many  voices  at  once 
answered  in  the  affirmative.  They  were 
then  requested  to  propose  any  questions 
Avhich  might  have  occurred  to  them  in 
connection  with  the  discourse.  To  this 
invitation  they  responded  promptly,  some 
of  their  queries  being  amusing  in  the  ex- 
treme, and  some  of  such  a  nature  as  must 
have  probed  the  consciences  of  the  English. 
This  part  of  the  conference  occupied  an- 
other hour  and  three  quarters,  at  the  end 
of  which  time  the  Indians  affinned  that 
they  were  not  weary,  and  requested  their 
visitors  to  come  again.  They  expressed 
a  wish  to  build  a  town  and  live  together, 
and  Mr.   Eliot  bade  them  farewell  only 

149 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAXD  CHUECHES 

after  he  had  promised  to  intercede  for 
them  with  the  Court.  After  this  manner 
was  the  most  heroic  ministry  in  American 
annals  inaugurated. 

A  fortnight  later  Mr.  Eliot  and  his 
friends  repeated  their  visit  to  Waban. 
This  meeting  was  more  numerous  than  the 
former,  and  was  attended  by  many  chil- 
dren, to  encourage  whom,  Winthrop  pleas- 
antly records,  Eliot  from  time  to  time  pro- 
duced apples  and  cakes  from  his  pockets. 
After  the  sermon  there  were  questions  as 
before,  and  the  meeting  closed  with  a 
prayer  in  the  Indian  language.  During 
the  devotional  exercise  one  of  the  assembly 
was  deeply  affected  even  to  tears,  a  strik- 
ing illustration,  as  Converse  Francis  points 
out,  of  Madame  de  Stael's  fine  remark,  that 
"  To  pray  together  in  whatever  language 
and  according  to  whatever  ritual,  is  the 
most  affecting  bond  of  hope  and  s}Tnpathv 
150 


OLD  XEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

which  man  can  contract  on  earth."  The 
whole  afternoon  was  spent  in  this  second 
visit;  and  as  nightfall  approached,  Mr. 
Eliot  and  his  friends  cheerfully  mounted 
their  horses  and  returned  home.  On  the 
twenty-sixth  of  November  and  on  the  ninth 
of  December  other  meetings  with  the  In- 
dians were  held  at  Nonantum,  conferences 
which  decided  Mr.  Eliot  to  make  strenuous 
endeavours  to  procure  schools  for  his  pro- 
teges, and  to  help  them  in  all  other  possible 
ways  to  civilization  and  self-respect.  He 
himself  had  been  a  teacher  of  youth,  and  it 
was  his  favourite  and  well-kno-wn  opinion 
that  no  permanent  good  effect  could  be 
produced  by  efforts  for  the  spiritual  wel- 
fare of  the  red  men  unless  civilization  and 
social  improvement  should  accompany  such 
efforts. 

He  now  aimed  to  soften,  and  gradually 
to  abolish,  their  savage  mode  of  life,  by 

151 


OLD  KEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

bringing  them  together  under  some  social 
arrangement.  Therefore,  with  Waban  as 
their  head,  the  Indians  formed  the  plan 
of  a  settlement  in  a  grant  of  land  thej  had 
received,  naming  the  town  Xonantum, 
which  signifies  in  English  rejoicing,  "  be- 
cause," says  "  The  Day-Breaking  of  the 
Gospell,"  "  they  hearing  the  word  and 
seeking  to  know  God,  the  English  did  re- 
joy  ce  at  it,  and  God  did  re  Joyce  at  it, 
which  pleased  them  much ;  and  therefore 
that  is  the  name  of  their  town." 

iS[ot  an  art  of  domestic  culture  was  neg- 
lected by  Eliot  in  the  upbuilding  of  this 
interesting  community.  I^ot  a  detail  did 
he  fail  to  consider,  not  a  tool  did  he  neglect 
to  provide,  not  a  want  did  he  disdain  to 
supply.  "  Like  Prometheus  in  the  legend, 
he  not  only  brought  down  the  fire  from 
heaven,  but  he  used  it  to  lead  men  out 
of  the  wood  into  the  farm  and  village, 
152 


OLD  NEW   EXGLA^^D   CHURCHES 

and  taught  his  devoted  converts  how  to 
live  as  well  as  how  to  die,  substituting 
industry  for  sloth,  the  plough  for  the  dart, 
the  cloth  for  the  skin,  and  the  steady  plenty 
and  comforts  of  home  for  the  alternate 
starvation  and  repletion  of  the  wilder- 
ness." 

Curious  moral  questions  came  to  him  to 
be  solved,  along  with  spiritual  and  eco- 
nomic problems.  The  Indians  had  been,  it 
seems,  exceedingly  addicted  to  gambling, 
and  one  of  their  queries  was  whether  they 
were  bound  to  pay  gaming  debts  incurred 
before  they  were  "  praying  Indians."  Mr. 
Eliot's  fashion  of  extricating  himself 
from  this  dilemma  strikes  one  as  highly 
ingenious.  He  first  talked  with  the  cred- 
itor, urging  upon  him  the  sinfulness  of 
gaming,  and  telling  him  that,  having  been 
guilty  in  this  respect,  he  ought  to  be  will- 
ing to  give  up  half  his  claim.     He  then 

153 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAND  CHURCHES 

talked  with  a  debtor,  reminding  him  that, 
though  he  had  sinned  in  gaming,  he  had 
promised  payment,  and  to  violate  his  obli- 
gation would  be  only  a  further  sin ;  cer- 
tainly he  should  be  willing  to  offer  half. 
Which  he  usually  was,  having  gained  re- 
lease from  the  other  half.  With  the  com- 
promise thus  obtained  both  parties  were 
thoroughly  satisfied,  and  more  than  ever 
after  that  were  they  disposed  to  think  Mr. 
Eliot  a  wise  wonder-worker. 

It  was,  however,  Natick  rather  than 
Nonantum  which  was  destined  to  be  the 
site  of  Eliot's  most  successful  colony.  This 
place  was  chosen  because  he  wished  the 
new  Indian  town  to  be  more  remote  from 
the  English  than  would  have  been  possible 
at  Newton.  Besides,  Nonantum  did  not 
afford  room  enough  for  his  purpose.  He 
wanted  a  tract  of  land  where  the  Indians 
could  be  gathered  into  a  large  society, 
154 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

furnished  with  instruction  of  various 
kinds,  given  a  form  of  government,  and 
encouraged  to  industry,  agriculture,  the 
trades,  fishing,  dressing  flax,  and  planting 
orchards.  He  wished  to  make  the  experi- 
ment under  the  most  favourable  circum- 
stances, because  he  intended  to  found  such 
a  town  as  might  be  an  example  for  imita- 
tion in  future  attempts  of  the  same  kind, 
—  a  model  for  all  the  subsequent  commu- 
nities of  Christian  Indians  that  might  be 
collected.  So,  in  1651,  the  "praying  In- 
dians "  came  together  and  laid  the  founda- 
tion of  a  town  on  the  banks  of  Charles 
River,  about  eighteen  miles  in  a  south- 
westera  direction  from  Boston.  The  place 
was  called  Natick,  which  signifies  a  place 
of  hills.  Thither  the  Nonantum  Indians 
removed. 

The  new  settlement  was  to  occupy  both 
sides  of  the  Charles  River,  and  one  of  the 

155 


OLD  XEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

first  industries  undertaken  was  the  build- 
ing over  the  stream  of  a  foot-bridge  eighty 
feet  long  and  nine  feet  high  in  the  middle. 
The  town  was  laid  out  in  three  streets, 
two  on  one  side  and  one  on  the  other  side 
of  the  river.  Lots  of  land  were  measured 
and  divided,  apple-trees  were  planted, 
and  the  business  of  the  sowing  season  be- 
gun. A  house-lot  was  assigned  to  each 
family,  a  circular  fort,  palisaded  with 
trees,  was  built,  and  a  large  building  in 
the  English  style  erected.  The  lower  part 
of  this  was  to  be  used  for  public  worship 
on  the  Sabbath  and  for  a  schoolroom  on 
other  days,  while  the  upper  apartment 
was  appropriated  as  a  storehouse  and  a 
part  of  it  divided  off  for  Mr,  Eliot's  own 
accommodation  when  he  must  stay  over 
night  at  the  settlement.  The  government 
of  this  town  was  largely  determined  by 
the  Indians  themselves,  and  so  well  did 
156 


OLD   ^EW  EXGLAND  CHURCHES 

they  observe  their  own  statutes,  that  for 
the  most  peace  as  well  as  prosperity 
reigned. 

The  next  summer  another  great  forward 
step  was  determined  upon.  A  church  of 
"  praying  Indians  "  was  instituted.  The 
manner  of  this  was  interesting,  A  day  of 
fasting  and  prayer  was  appointed,  the 
names  of  the  Indians  who  were  to  present 
their  confessions  sent  to  the  churches  in 
the  vicinity,  and  a  large  body  of  people 
brought  together  to  listen  to  these  state- 
ments of  religious  views  and  feeling.  The 
confessions  were  fully  written  down  by 
Mr.  Eliot,  who  designed  them,  with  an 
account  of  the  meeting  itself,  for  the  in- 
formation of  the  London  Society  for  Prop- 
agating the  Gospel.  The  resulting  tract, 
entitled  "  Tears  of  Repentance,"  was  ad- 
dressed, when  printed,  to  General  Crom- 
well,   and    was    prefaced    with    a    rather 

157 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAXD  CHURCHES 

perfervid  personal  tribute  to  the  Lord  Pro- 
tector. Some  of  the  confessions  in  this 
tract  charm  one  by  reason  of  their  hon- 
esty. One  Indian  acknowledged  that  he 
first  became  a  "  praying  Indian,"  not  be- 
cause he  understood  or  cared  for  religion, 
but  because  he  loved  the  English  and 
wished  them  to  love  him.  This  impulse 
of  feeling  brought  him  into  a  state  of 
mind  which  resulted  in  deep  and  abiding 
conviction.  Further  tracts  were  also  sent 
over  to  the  London  Society,  but  it  was 
not  until  1660  that  an  Indian  church  was 
finally  formed  among  the  natives  of  Xorth 
America,  i^o  particular  account  of  the 
proceedings  on  this  historic  occasion  have 
come  down  to  us.  We  only  know  that 
Mr.  Eliot  baptized  the  catechumens  and 
then  administered  the  Lord's  Supper. 
Thus  was  laid  at  Natick  the  foimdations 

158 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

of  the  first  civil  and  ecclesiastical  commu- 
nity of  Christian  Indians. 

Eliot's  greatest  accomplishment  was, 
however,  to  come.  From  the  beginning 
of  his  Indian  labours  he  had  had  in  view 
a  translation  of  the  entire  Scriptures  into 
the  Indian  tongue.  To  this  end  he  had 
been  intent  upon  obtaining  the  best  assist- 
ance he  could  command  in  his  acquirement 
of  the  language.  As  far  back  as  1649,  in 
a  letter  dated  July  8th,  he  had  written  to 
Winslow  of  his  desire  "  to  translate  some 
parts  of  the  Scriptures  "  for  the  Indians. 
He  considered  it  as  an  undertaking  de- 
manding the  most  scrupulous  and  con- 
scientious care.  "  I  look  at  it,"  he  said, 
"  as  a  sacred  and  holy  work,  to  be  regarded 
with  much  fear,  care,  and  reverence." 
The  sole  cause  of  delay  all  these  years 
had  been  a  lack  of  the  funds  necessary 
to  the  printing  of  this  translation.     But 

159 


OLD  XEW  EXGLA^vTD  CHTJECHES 

a  corporation  in  England  now  interested 
itself  in  the  undertaking,  and  at  their  ex- 
pense the  iSTew  Testament  in  the  Indian 
language  was  published,  September,  1661, 
soon  after  the  restoration  of  Charles 
the  Second.  Two  years  later  the  Old  Tes- 
tament was  likewise  published,  and  to  the 
complete  Bible  thus  resulting  was  added 
a  catechism,  and  a  translation  into  Indian 
of  the  Old  Bay  Psalm  Book.  A  copy 
of  the  whole  work,  elegantly  bound,  was 
sent  to  Charles  the  Second,  prefaced  by  a 
dedication  written  with  nobility  and  grace. 
In  this  the  Commissioners  of  the  United 
Colonies  present  their  profuse  thanks  to 
the  king  for  his  royal  favour  in  renew- 
ing the  charter  of  the  corporation  and  thus 
defeating  the  attempts  of  its  enemies. 
They  assure  his  Majesty  that  though  New 
England  has  not,  like  the  Spanish  colo- 
nies of  South  America,  gold  and  silver 
160 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

with  which  to  enrich  the  mother  country, 
yet  they  rejoiced  to  send  to  the  land  of 
their  fathers  the  Bible  in  the  language  of 
the  natives,  among  whom  the  gospel  had 
been  planted  and  propagated,  believing 
this  to  be  "  as  much  better  than  gold  as 
the  souls  of  men  are  worth  more  than  the 
whole  world." 

Thus  was  the  Apostle's  toil  at  last 
crowned  with  a  result  which  must  indeed 
have  gladdened  the  good  man's  heart.  The 
Indians  had  now  the  whole  Bible  in  a 
familiar  tongue.  Not  content  with  preach- 
ing to  them  in  their  own  language,  Eliot 
had  brought  them  the  religious  store  most 
highly  prized  in  all  the  world  for  warning, 
for  instruction,  for  encouragement,  for 
pleasure.  He  might  reasonably  have  ex- 
pected his  converts  to  come  to  the  book. 
But  he  did  not.  Instead,  though  it  was  an 
Herculean  task,  he  took  the  book  to  them. 

161 


OLD  NEW  EIsTGLAlSTD   CHURCHES 

This  Indian  version  of  the  Scripture  was 
the  first  Bible  ever  printed  on  the  conti- 
nent of  America. 

For  about  twenty  years  the  initial  im- 
pression of  the  Indian  Bible  sufficed. 
Then  in  1680  another  edition  of  the  New 
Testament  was  published,  and  in  1685 
a  second  edition  of  the  Old  Testament 
appeared  which,  bound  with  the  latest  im- 
pression of  the  New  Testament,  constituted 
the  second  edition  of  the  whole  Bible, 
though  there  was  an  interval  of  five  years 
between  the  times  at  which  the  two  testa- 
ments respectively  appeared.  The  whole 
impression  was  two  thousand  copies,  and 
in  the  printing  of  it  the  participation  of 
a  Christian  native,  one  James  [of]  Graf- 
ton, was  notable.  The  second  edition  of 
Eliot's  translation  of  the  Scriptures  was 
the  last.  The  printer  never  was,  and 
probably  never  will  be,  again  called  to 
162 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

set  his  types  for  those  words  so  strange 
and  uncouth  to  our  ears.  But  it  is  under- 
stood that  the  late  Bishop  Whipple  found 
Eliot's  Bible  of  great  use  in  instructing 
the  Indians  of  the  Northwest,  inasmuch 
as  all  the  Algonquin  tribes  speak  a  kindred 
language. 

This  Book  of  Eliot's  is,  however,  more 
than  a  book.  When  we  take  the  old  dark 
volume  into  our  hands,  though  we  under- 
stand not  the  tongue  in  which  it  is  written, 
it  speaks  to  us  in  another  and  very  beau- 
tiful language  of  the  affection  which  a 
devoted  man  cherished  for  the  souls  of  his 
fellow  men,  and  supplies  a  singularly  con- 
vincing document  of  such  human  love  as 
fainted  in  no  effort  to  bring  light  to  those 
that  sat  in  darkness. 

Scarcely  less  useful  if  decidedly  less 
romantic  than  his  Indian  labours  was 
Eliot's  pastoral  career.     Few  men  could 

163 


OLD  ^TEW   E^TGLAI^D  CHURCHES 

have  carried  on  through  the  length  of  a 
lifetime  so  successfullj  as  did  he  two 
distinctly  different  courses  of  service. 
His  ministry  in  Roxbury  was  never  neg- 
lected because  he  was  Apostle  to  the  In- 
dians. His  church,  like  his  colony,  was 
well  ordered.  And  of  his  services  to  the 
education  of  American  youth  we  have  to- 
day an  enduring  monument  in  the  Rox- 
bury Latin  School  which  he  founded. 

Mr.  Eliot's  wife,  as  has  been  said,  was 
a  woman  of  many  virtues,  distinguished 
alike  for  gentle  piety  and  cheerful  use- 
fulness. Their  life  together  was  a  long  and 
very  happy  one,  and  when,  March  24, 
1687,  she  died  at  the  age  of  eighty-four, 
her  loss  smote  heavily  on  the  heart  of  her 
venerable  husband.  She  who  had  been 
bound  to  him  by  the  strong  ties  of  early 
love,  who  had  been  his  solace  amidst  the  ar- 
duous toil  of  his  mission,  and  the  soul-sick- 
164 


OLD   XEW  ENGLA^^D   CHURCHES 

ening  delays  of  his  translation,  had  fallen 
by  his  side,  and  he  had  no  wish  to  live 
longer.  One  who  was  present  at  Mrs. 
Eliot's  funeral  tells  us  that  the  Apostle 
stood  with  tears  fast  flowing  over  the  coffin 
of  her  whom  he  had  so  long  loved,  and  to 
the  concourse  of  people  there  gathered  said, 
sadly :  ''  Here  lies  my  dear,  faithful,  pious, 
prudent,  prayerful  wife ;  I  shall  go  to  her, 
but  she  shall  not  return  to  me." 

None  the  less,  Mr.  Eliot  continued  to 
preach  as  long  as  his  strength  lasted. 
With  slow  and  feeble  steps  he  ascended 
the  hill  on  which  his  church  was  situated, 
a  hill  which  is  still  rather  trying  to  climb. 
The  last  sermon  which  he  delivered  was  a 
clear  and  edifying  exposition  of  the  eighty- 
third  psalm,  and  the  date  of  this  October 
17,  1688.  He  died  May  20,  1690,  aged 
eighty-six  years,  painfully  whispering, 
"  Welcome  joy !  " 

165 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

To  the  last  the  Indians  were  his  chief 
interest.  Among  his  farewell  speeches  is 
recorded  this :  "  There  is  a  cloud,  a  dark 
cloud,  upon  the  work  of  the  gospel  among 
the  poor  Indians.  The  Lord  revive  and 
prosper  that  work,  and  grant  it  may  live 
when  I  am  dead.  It  is  a  work  which 
I  have  been  doing  much  and  long  about." 

John  Eliot  lies  interred  in  the  Eustis 
Street  Burying-Ground,  about  ten  min- 
utes' walk  from  the  church  over  which  he 
so  efficiently  and  faithfully  ministered. 
His  Bible  can  be  found  only  here  and 
there  in  a  museum  or  library.  But  his 
story  is  among  the  best-known  because  one 
of  the  sweetest  of  all  the  romantic  tales 
in  our  country's  history.  And  Xonantum 
and  ISTatick  will  ever  be  names  of  beautiful 
moral  meaning  in  the  chronicles  of  !N^ew 
England. 

166 


PARSON    SMITH'S     DAUGHTER 
ABIGAIL 

rHE  life  of  Abigail  Adams  empha- 
sizes very  impressively  the  truth 
that  in  early  New  England  the 
clergy  and  their  families  represented  the 
gentry  of  the  period.  Abigail's  father 
was  all  his  life  a  poor  minister.  Called 
from  his  parish  in  Charlestown  to  take 
charge  in  August,  1734,  of  the  First 
Church  at  Weymouth,  his  salary  at  the 
new  parish  was  only  £160  a  year,  in  ad- 
dition to  which  the  parish  munificently 
settled  upon  him  later  the  sum  of  £300, 
"  the  latter  to  be  paid  £100  annually  for 
three  years,  all  in  bills  of  credit."    But  if 

167 


OLD  XEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

there  was  not  a  large  income,  there  was  a 
great  deal  of  solid  learning  and  quiet 
culture  in  the  little  Weymouth  home  w^here 
was  born,  November  11,  1744,  the  beauti- 
ful and  intelligent  girl  who  was  to  become 
the  wife  of  one  President  of  the  United 
States,  and  the  mother  of  another. 

As  a  young  girl  Abigail  Smith  did  not 
enjoy  great  advantages.  Had  her  health 
been  better  she  might  have  availed  herself 
of  such  limited  educational  opportunities 
as  were  open  to  girls  of  her  day,  but,  deli- 
cate as  she  was,  her  parents  thought  it 
best  not  to  send  her  away  to  school.  In 
a  letter  written  in  1817,  the  year  before 
her  death,  she  says,  speaking  of  her  own 
deficiencies :  "  My  early  education  did  not 
partake  of  the  abundant  opportunities 
which  the  present  days  offer,  and  which 
even  our  common  country  schools  now 
afford.  I  never  was  sent  to  any  school. 
168 


OLD  NEW  E.NTGLAND  CHURCHES 

I  was  always  sick.  Female  education  in 
the  best  families  went  no  further  than 
writing  and  arithmetic;  in  some  few  and 
rare  instances,  music  and  dancing." 

That  the  parson's  sprightly  daughter 
failed  to  make  the  most,  however,  of  such 
chances  of  cultivation  as  did  come  her 
way,  one  cannot  for  a  moment  believe  after 
reading  her  remarkable  letters.  She  seems 
to  have  had  a  decidedly  assimilative  mind, 
and  to  have  been  very  well  able  to  obtain 
from  intercourse  with  men  and  women  of 
attainments  whatever  they  might  have  to 
give.  Her  grandmother,  Mrs.  John 
Quincy,  Abigail  tells  us,  was  one  of  her 
most  valued  teachers.  This  lady,  the 
daughter  of  the  Reverend  John  ISTorton, 
must  certainly  have  had  a  truly  wonderful 
mind.  In  the  year  1Y95,  Mrs.  Adams  tells 
her  own  daughter  of  the  excellent  lessons 
she  received  from  her  grandmother  at  a 

169 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHUKCHES 

very  early  period  of  life.  "  I  frequently 
think  they  made  a  more  durable  irnpres- 
sion  upon  my  mind  than  those  which  I 
received  from  my  own  parents.  ...  I 
love  and  revere  her  memory;  her  lively, 
cheerful  disposition  animated  all  around 
her,  while  she  edified  all  by  her  unaffected 
piety."  Again,  in  another  letter  to  the 
same  person  in  1808,  she  said :  "  I  cherish 
her  memory  ^vith  holy  veneration,  whose 
maxims  I  have  treasured  up,  whose  virtues 
live  in  my  remembrance ;  happy  if  I  could 
say  they  have  been  transplanted  into  my 
life." 

It  was  probably  at  one  of  the  pleasant 
social  gatherings  at  Grandmother  Quincy's 
hospitable  mansion  that  x^bigail  first  met 
John  Adams,  the  son  of  a  Braintree 
farmer,  who  had  been  born  in  the  quaint 
old  house  now  in  the  care  of  the  Quincy 
Daughters  of  the  Revolution,  had  been 
170 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

sent  to  Harvard  College,  had  supported 
himself  by  school-teaching  while  studying 
law  in  Worcester,  and  had  now  returned 
to  Braintree,  full  of  ambition  and  buoyant 
manliness,  for  a  short  stay  preparatory  to 
practising  his  profession.  An  illuminat- 
ing glimpse  of  the  young  Adams  of  this 
period  is  afforded  by  this  sample  record 
in  his  diary :  "  Rose  at  sunrise,  un- 
pitched  a  load  of  hay,  and  translated  two 
more  Leaves  of  Justinian."  He  was  so- 
cially inclined,  too,  this  clever  young  law- 
yer-in-the-germ,  and  with  his  farm  chores 
and  his  study  he  mingled  a  liberal  allow- 
ance of  chat  and  tea  and  jolly  visiting  at 
the  various  Quincy  homesteads  near  his 
farm.  To  two  of  the  Quincy  sisters  he  had 
indeed  been  greatly  attracted  before  ever 
he  met  their  cousin  Abigail  Smith.  But 
these  tender  emotions  were  only  the  fore- 
runners of  the  deep  and  sincere  affection 

in 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

of  his  life,  which  was  to  spring  into  being 
early  in  the  sixties  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, and  to  grow  into  a  sturdy  prop  for 
his  manhood  and  old  age. 

To  John  Adams,  the  farmer's  son,  mar- 
riage with  Abigail  Smith,  the  minister's 
daughter,  meant,  of  course,  a  decided  step 
upward  in  the  social  scale,  —  clever  and 
gifted  as  the  young  man  was  universally 
acknowledged  to  be.  In  the  Weymouth 
parish,  indeed,  it  was  felt  that  Abigail  was 
not  doing  so  well  as  she  ought  in  the  choice 
of  a  husband,  and  opinions  to  this  effect 
were  freely  circulated  among  the  church 
busybodies  at  the  time  of  the  marriage, 
October  25,  1764.  John's  profession,  for 
one  thing,  was  urged  against  hira.  Accord- 
ing to  Puritan  ethics,  the  vocation  of  a 
lawyer  was  unnecessary  and  unsanctifie<3. 

This  feeling  of  his  congregation  explains 
a  sermon  preached  by  Abigail's  father,  the 
172 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

Reverend  William  Smith,  just  after  the 
marriage  of  his  second  daughter.  He  was 
a  good  bit  of  a  wag,  this  Weymouth  par- 
son, and  when  his  eldest  daughter  had 
married  Richard  Cranch,  of  whom  every- 
body approved,  he  had  preached  upon  the 
text:  "And  Mary  hath  chosen  that  good 
part,  which  shall  not  be  taken  away  from 
her."  Now,  immediately  after  the  mar- 
riage of  Abigail,  he  outdid  himself  and 
rebuked  his  parishioners  in  one  clever 
stroke  by  delivering  a  fine  sermon  from 
the  text,  "  For  John  came  neither  eating 
bread  nor  drinking  wine ;  .  .  .  and  ye  say, 
He  hath  a  devil." 

Whether  the  Weymouth  people  felt 
themselves  properly  rebuked  for  their  cold- 
ness to  John  Adams  by  this  Scriptural 
attack,  we  do  not  know,  but  certain  it  is 
that  the  young  couple  began  very  happily 
just  then  their  life  in  the  little  house  close 

173 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

to  the  one  where  John  had  been  born,  and 
very  soon  had  friends  in  plenty  flocking 
to  their  doors. 

The  scene  of  their  happy  married  life 
is  now  reverently  preserved  in  many  of 
its  antique  appointments  by  the  Quincy 
Historical  Society,  and  is  the  resort  each 
year  of  hundreds  of  pious  pilgrims,  who 
delight  in  the  noble  simplicity  of  the  ven- 
erable old  house  "  where  Independence 
began,"  and  where,  July  11,  1767,  the 
little  son  who  was  to  be  Massachusetts' 
second  President,  first  drew  breath. 

The  very  next  day  after  the  baby  came, 
good  Parson  Wibard  was  called  in,  and 
the  little  child  was  baptized,  as  was  the 
practice  of  the  times.  In  accordance  with 
the  request  of  Grandmother  Smith,  the 
boy  was  named  for  her  father,  the  aged 
John  Quincy,  who  then  lay  dying  in  his 
home  at  Mt.  Wollaston  near  by.  Long 
174 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

afterward  President  John  Qiiincy  Adams 
wrote  of  this  transaction :  "  It  was  filial 
tenderness  that  gave  the  name.  It  was  the 
name  of  one  passing  from  earth  to  immor- 
tality. These  have  been  among  the  strong- 
est links  of  my  attachment  to  tlie  name 
of  Qiiincy,  and  have  been  to  me  through 
life  a  perpetual  admonition  to  do  nothing 
unworthy  of  it." 

At  the  time  of  the  little  John  Quincy's 
birth,  Mrs.  Adams  was  the  serene  young 
woman  of  our  picture,  lovely,  lovable,  and 
carefully  domestic.  It  was  indeed  a  very 
quiet,  happy  life  which  she  passed  dur- 
ing these  years  of  her  early  married  life. 
Her  husband,  to  be  sure,  was  not  with 
her  so  constantly  as  she  would  have  wished, 
for  he  was  obliged  to  go  about  from  place 
to  place,  following  the  circuit,  after  the 
custom  of  lawyers  of  his  time,  and  even 
when   not   away   from   Massachusetts   he 

175 


OLD   iS^EW  EA^GLAXD   CHUECHES 

practised  in  Boston,  coming  to  his  ''  still 
calm  happy  Braintree  "  only  for  the  over- 
Sundays.  The  pathos  of  these  enforced 
absences  from  her  husband  colours  all  Abi- 
gail Adams's  letters.  Again  and  again 
she  writes  of  her  suffering  because  removed 
from  the  man  to  whom  she  had  given  her 
heart.  And  he,  scarcely  less,  bewails  con- 
stantly the  tumultuous  conditions  which 
made  necessary'  a  life  very  little  domestic. 
All  this,  however,  is  brought  out  best  in 
the  documents  themselves. 

Among  the  first  of  the  letters  from  this 
devoted  wife  available  to  students,  is  that 
dated  Braintree,  August  15,  1774,  sent 
to  Mr.  Adams,  who,  in  company  with  the 
other  delegates,  had  set  out  to  attend  the 
Continental  Congress  at  Philadelphia. 
The  lofty  tone  of  the  missive  is  most  im- 
pressive :  "  I  was  much  gratified  upon  the 
return  of  some  of  your  friends  from  Water- 
176 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

to"svii,  who  gave  me  an  account  of  your 
social  dinner  and  friendly  parting.  May 
your  return  merit  and  meet  with  the 
grateful  acknowledgment  of  every  well- 
wisher  to  their  country.  Your  task  is 
difficult  and  important.  Heaven  direct  and 
prosper  you.  ...  I  shall  reckon  over 
every  week  as  they  pass  and  rejoice  at 
every  Saturday  evening.  .  .  .  Our  little 
ones  [other  babies  had  come  to  play  with 
son  John]  send  their  duty  to  their  papa, 
and  that  which  at  all  times  and  in  all  places 
evei'more  attends  you  is  the  most  affection- 
ate regard  of  your  Abigail  Adams."  Four 
days  later  she  writes :  "  The  great  distance 
between  us  makes  the  time  appear  very 
long  to  me.  It  seems  already  a  month 
since  you  left  me.  The  great  anxiety  I 
feel  for  my  country,  for  you,  and  for  our 
family  renders  the  day  tedious  and  the 
night  unpleasant.     The  rocks  and  quick- 

177 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

sands  appear  upon  every  side.  What 
course  you  can  or  will  take  is  all  wrapped 
in  the  bosom  of  futurity.  Uncertainty  and 
expectation  leave  the  mind  great  scope. 
Did  ever  any  kingdom  or  state  regain  its 
liberty,  when  once  it  was  invaded,  without 
bloodshed  ?  I  cannot  think  of  it  without 
horror.  Yet  we  are  told  that  all  the  mis- 
fortunes of  Sparta  were  occasioned  by  their 
too  great  solicitude  for  present  tranquillity, 
and  from  an  excessive  love  of  peace,  they 
neglected  the  means  of  making  it  sure  and 
lasting.  ...  I  have  taken  a  great  fond- 
ness for  reading  Rollins's  '  Ancient  His- 
tory '  since  you  left  me.  I  am  determined 
to  go  through  with  it  if  possible  in  these 
my  days  of  solitude.  I  find  great  pleasure 
and  entertainment,  and  I  have  persuaded 
Johnny  [the  future  President]  to  read  me 
a  page  or  two  every  day.  .  .  .  The  first  of 
September  or  the  month  of  September  may 
178 


OLD   NEW  EI^GLAT^D   CHURCHES 

be  of  as  much  importance  to  Great  Britain 
as  the  Ides  of  March  were  to  Caesar.  I 
long  impatiently  to  have  you  upon  the 
stage  of  action." 

The  action,  however,  of  that  September 
was  in  Boston  rather  than  in  Philadelphia, 
as  the  Massachusetts  city  was  besieged  by 
the  enemy.  One  can  scarcely  fancy  the 
terrible  anxiety  to  which  the  absent  hus- 
band must  have  been  prey  when  the  news 
of  Boston's  bombardment  reached  him. 
From  Philadelphia,  September  8,  1774,  he 
writes :  "  When  I  shall  be  at  home  I  can't 
say,  but  if  there  is  distress  and  danger 
in  Boston,  pray  invite  our  friends,  as 
many  as  possible,  to  take  asylum  with 
you."  A  little  later  his  letter  runs:  "  My 
babes  are  never  out  of  my  mind  nor  absent 
from  my  heart." 

The  horrible  uncertainty  of  the  mails 
is  again  and  again  the  theme  of  the  corre- 

179 


OLD   ^EW  EXGLAXD   CHURCHES 

spondence  between  these  wedded  lovers, 
and  one's  sympathy  is  keenly  aroused  by 
such  a  letter  as  this  of  Abigail's,  dated 
Braintree,  September  14,  1774:  "Five 
weeks  have  passed,  and  not  one  line  have 
I  received.  I  would  rather  give  a  dollar 
for  a  letter  by  the  post,  though  the  conse- 
quence should  be  that  I  ate  but  one  meal 
a  day  these  three  weeks  to  come.  Every 
one  I  see  is  inquiring  after  you,  when  did 
I  hear.  All  my  intelligence  is  collected 
from  the  newspaper,  and  I  can  only  reply 
that  I  saw  by  that,  you  arrived  such  a 
day.  .  .  .  This  town  appears  as  high  as 
you  can  well  imagine,  and  if  necessary 
would  soon  be  in  arras.  Xot  a  Tory  but 
hides  his  head." 

The  contrast  at  this  time  between  condi- 
tions in  Massachusetts  and  those  in  Penn- 
sylvania  is  very  well   illustrated  by  two 
paragraphs  from  lettors  written  then  by 
180 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

John  Adams  to  his  wife.  One  of  these 
urges  upon  her  the  greatest  possible  atten- 
tion to  the  mickles  that  make  the  muckle. 
"  Frugality,  my  dear,  frugality,  economy, 
parsimony,  must  be  our  refuge.  I  hope  the 
ladies  are  every  day  diminishing  their  or- 
naments, and  the  gentlemen  too.  Let  us 
eat  potatoes  and  drink  water."  The  other 
extract  runs :  "I  shall  be  killed  with  kind- 
ness in  this  place.  We  go  to  Congress  at 
nine,  and  there  we  stay  most  earnestly 
engaged  in  debates  upon  the  most  abstruse 
mysteries  of  state,  until  three  in  the  after- 
noon; then  we  adjourn,  and  go  to  dine 
with  some  of  the  nobles  of  Pennsylvania 
at  four  o'clock,  and  feast  upon  ten  thou- 
sand delicacies,  and  sit  drinking  Madeira, 
claret,  and  Burgundy  till  six  or  seven." 

Just  before  leaving  this  "  perpetual 
round  of  feasting,"  which  occupied  per- 
force so  large  a  share  of  his  first  visit  to 

181 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

Philadelphia,  Mr.  Adams  received  two 
letters  which  must  greatly  have  delighted 
his  home-loving  heart.  One  of  these  was 
written  by  his  seven-year-old  son,  John 
Qnincy  Adams,  and  runs  as  follows: 
"  October  13,  1774.  Sir,  —  I  have  been 
trying  ever  since  you  went  away  to  learn 
to  write  you  a  letter.  I  shall  make  poor 
work  of  it ;  but,  sir,  mamma  says  you  will 
accept  my  endeavours,  and  that  my  duty 
to  you  may  be  expressed  in  poor  writing 
as  w^ell  as  good.  I  hope  I  grow  a  better 
boy,  and  that  you  will  have  no  occasion 
to  be  ashamed  of  me  when  you  return. 
Mr.  Thaxter  says  I  learn  my  books  well. 
He  is  a  very  good  master.  I  read  my 
books  to  mamma.  We  all  long  to  see  you. 
I  am,  sir,  your  dutiful  son,  John  Quincy 
Adams."  The  other  letter  is  one  of  very 
wonderful  beauty,  reflecting  as  it  does  the 
loving  wife's  unselfish  determination  to 
182 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

surrender  all  that  she  holds  most  dear 
should  her  country  require  the  sacrifice. 
Its  date  is  October  16,  1774,  and  it  begins: 
**'  My  much-loved  friend,  —  I  dare  not  ex- 
press to  you,  at  three  hundred  miles  dis- 
tance, how  ardently  I  long  for  your  return. 
I  have  some  very  miserly  wishes,  and  can- 
not consent  to  your  spending  one  hour 
in  town,  till  at  least  I  have  had  you 
twelve.  The  idea  plays  about  my  heart, 
unnerves  my  hand,  whilst  I  write;  awak- 
ens all  the  tender  sentiments  that  years 
have  increased  and  matured,  and  which, 
when  with  me,  every  day  was  dispensing 
to  you.  The  whole  collected  stock  of  ten 
weeks'  absence  knows  not  how  to  brook 
any  longer  restraint,  but  will  break  forth 
and  flow  through  my  pen.  May  the  like 
sensations  enter  thy  breast,  and  (spite  of 
all  the  weighty  cares  of  state)  mingle  them- 
selves with  those  I  wish  to  communicate; 

183 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

for  in  giving  them  utterance,  I  have  felt 
more  sincere  pleasure  than  I  have  known 
since  the  tenth  of  August,  the  day  you 
went  away.  Many  have  been  the  anxious 
hours  I  have  spent  since  that  day;  the 
threatening  aspect  of  our  public  affairs, 
the  complicated  distress  of  this  province, 
the  arduous  and  perplexed  business  in 
which  you  are  engaged,  have  all  conspired 
to  agitate  my  bosom  with  fears  and  appre- 
hensions to  which  I  have  heretofore  been 
a  stranger;  and,  far  from  thinking  the 
scene  closed,  it  looks  as  though  the  cur- 
tain was  but  just  drawn,  and  only  the  first 
scene  of  the  infernal  plot  disclosed.  And 
whether  the  end  will  be  tragical.  Heaven 
alone  knows.  You  cannot  be,  nor  do  I 
wish  to  see  you,  an  inactive  spectator ;  but 
if  the  sword  be  drawn,  I  bid  adieu  to  all 
domestic  felicity,  and  look  forward  to  that 
country  where  there  are  neither  wars  nor 
184 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUKCHES 

rumors  of  war  in  a  firm  belief  that, 
through  the  mercy  of  its  King,  we  shall 
both  rejoice  there  together." 

As  it  fell  out,  however,  John  Adams 
was  never  to  bear  arms  for  his  country. 
His  services  to  the  new  republic  are  second 
to  none,  but  their  form  was  always  diplo- 
matic rather  than  military.  Even  in  the 
preliminary  skirmishes  he  had  no  part, 
for,  after  passing  the  winter  of  1774  -  75 
in  Braintree,  he  set  out  again  for  Congress, 
and  thus  was  absent  from  Massachusetts 
even  on  the  eventful  Lexington  and  Bunker 
Hill  occasions.  To  this  latter  incident  we 
owe  one  of  Abigail's  most  picturesque  let- 
ters, that  written  on  Sunday,  June  18, 
1775.  It  begins:  "The  day  —  perhaps 
the  decisive  day  —  is  come,  on  which  the 
fate  of  America  depends.  My  bursting 
heart  must  find  vent  at  my  pen.  I  have 
just  heard  that  our  dear  friend,  Dr.  War- 

185 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

ren,  is  no  more,  but  fell  gloriously  fighting 
for  his  country;  saying,  Better  to  die 
honourably  in  the  field  than  ignominiously 
hang  upon  the  gallows.  Great  is  our  loss. 
He  has  distinguished  himself  in  every  en- 
gagement, by  his  courage  and  fortitude,  by 
animating  the  soldiers,  and  leading  them 
on  by  his  own  example.  *  The  race  is  not 
to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the  strong; 
but  the  God  of  Israel  is  He  that  gives 
strength  and  power  unto  His  people. 
Trust  to  Him  at  all  times,  ye  people,  pour 
out  your  hearts  before  Him;  God  is  a 
refuge  for  us.'  Charlestown  is  laid  in 
ashes.  The  battle  began  upon  our  intrench- 
ments  upon  Bunker's  Hill,  Saturday  morn- 
ing about  three  o'clock,  and  has  not  ceased 
yet,  and  it  is  now  three  o'clock  Sabbath 
afternoon.  It  is  expected  they  will  come 
out  over  the  Neck  to-night,  and  a  dreadful 
battle  must  ensue.  Almighty  God,  cover 
186 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

the  heads  of  our  countrymen,  and  be  a 
shield  to  our  dear  friends !  How  many 
have  fallen  we  know  not.  The  constant 
roar  of  the  cannon  is  so  distressing  that 
we  cannot  eat,  drink,  or  sleep.  May  we 
be  supported  and  sustained  in  the  dreadful 
conflict.  I  shall  tarry  here  till  it  is 
thought  unsafe  by  my  friends;  and  then 
I  have  secured  myself  a  retreat  at  your 
brother's  who  has  kindly  offered  me  a  part 
of  his  house."  To  this  there  came  back 
promptly  from  Philadelphia  the  following : 
"  June  27th.  This  moment  received  two 
letters  from  you.  Courage,  my  dear.  We 
shall  be  supported  in  life  or  comforted  in 
death.  I  rejoice  that  my  countrymen  be- 
have so  bravely,  though  not  so  skilfully 
conducted  as  I  could  wish.  I  hope  the 
defect  will  be  remedied  by  the  new  model- 
ling of  the  army.  My  love  everywhere." 
The   femininity   of   Abigail   crops   out 

187 


OLD  XEW  ENGLAIs^D   CHURCHES 

deliciouslj  in  some  of  her  letters,  but  she 
is  never  petty  nor  unreasonable.  July  5, 
1775,  she  writes :  "  I  have  received  a 
good  deal  of  paper  from  you.  I  wish  it 
had  been  more  covered;  the  writing  is 
very  scant  yet  I  must  not  grumble.  I 
know  your  time  is  not  yours  nor  mine. 
Your  labors  must  be  great  and  your  mouth 
closed ;  but  all  you  may  communicate, 
I  beg  you  would.  There  is  a  pleasure," 
she  adds,  naively,  "  I  know  not  whence 
it  arises,  nor  can  I  stop  now  to  find  out, 
but  I  say  there  is  a  degree  of  pleasure  in 
being  able  to  tell  news,  especially  any  that 
so  nearly  concerns  us,  as  all  your  proceed- 
ings do.  I  should  have  been  more  par- 
ticular, but  I  thought  you  knew  everything 
that  passed  here.  The  present  state  of 
the  inhabitants  of  Boston  is  that  of  the 
most  abject  slaves,  under  the  most  cruel 
and  despotic  tyrants.  Among  many  in- 
188 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

stances  I  could  mention,  let  me  relate  one. 
Upon  the  seventeenth  of  June,  printed 
hand-bills  were  posted  up  at  the  comers 
of  the  streets,  and  upon  houses,  forbid- 
ding any  inhabitants  to  go  upon  their 
houses,  or  upon  any  eminence,  on  pain 
of  death;  the  inhabitants  dared  not  to 
look  out  of  their  houses,  nor  to  be  heard 
or  seen  to  ask  a  question. 

"  I  would  not  have  you  be  distressed 
about  me.  Danger,  they  say,  makes  people 
valiant.  Hitherto  I  have  been  distressed 
but  not  dismayed.  I  have  felt  for  my 
country  and  her  sons.  I  have  bled  with 
them  and  for  them.  Not  all  the  havoc 
and  devastation  they  have  made  has 
wounded  me  like  the  death  of  Warren. 
We  want  him  in  the  Senate ;  we  want  him 
in  his  profession;  we  want  him  in  the 
field.  We  mourn  for  the  citizen,  the  sen- 
ator, the  physician,  and  the  warrior.   May 

189 


OLD  Is^EW  ENGLAND   CHURCHES 

we  have  others  raised  up  in  his  room.  .  .  . 
I  wish  I  could  come  and  see  you.  I  never 
suffer  myself  to  think  you  are  about  re- 
turning soon.  Can  it,  will  it  be  ?  May 
I  ask,  may  I  wish  for  it  ?  When  once 
I  expect  you,  the  time  will  crawl  till  I 
see  you.  It  is  eleven  o'clock  at  night. 
With  thoughts  of  thee  do  I  close  my  eyes. 
Angels  guard  and  protect  thee;  and  may 
a  safe  return  erelong  bless  thy  Portia." 
Almost  all  Abigail's  Revolutionary  letters 
are  signed  by  this  not  inappropriate  pseu- 
donym. 

That  the  statesman  off  in  Philadelphia 
fully  appreciated  the  pluck  of  his  devoted 
wife  is  shown  in  many  of  his  replies,  but 
in  none  more  prettily  than  in  this :  "  It 
gives  me  more  pleasure  than  I  can  express 
to  learn  that  you  sustain  with  so  much  for- 
titude the  shocks  and  terrors  of  the  times. 
You  are  really  brave,  my  dear.  You  are 
100 


OLD  ^EW  EXGLA^^D  CHURCHES 

a  heroine,  and  you  have  reason  to  be. 
For  the  worst  that  can  happen  can  do 
you  no  harai.  A  soul  as  pure,  as  benevo- 
lent, as  virtuous  and  pious  as  yours,  has 
nothing  to  fear,  but  everything  to  hope  and 
expect  from  the  last  of  human  evils." 

Very  frequently  in  her  letters  to  Phila- 
delphia Mrs.  Adams  had  inquired  concern- 
ing Doctor  Franklin's  share  in  the  deliber- 
ations. These  queries  elicited  the  following 
reply,  dated  July  23,  1775:  "Doctor 
Franklin  has  been  very  constant  in  his  at- 
tendance on  Congress  from  the  beginning. 
His  conduct  has  been  composed  and  grave, 
and  in  the  opinion  of  many  gentlemen  very 
reserved.  He  has  not  assumed  anything, 
nor  affected  to  take  the  lead;  but  has 
seemed  to  choose  that  the  Congress  should 
pursue  their  own  principles  and  sentiments 
and  adopt  their  own  plans.  Yet  he  has  not 
been  backward;    has  been  very  useful  on 

191 


OLD  XEW  exgla:n'd  churches 

many  occasions,  and  discovered  a  dispo- 
sition entirely  American.  He  does  not  hes- 
itate at  our  boldest  methods,  but  rather 
seems  to  think  us  too  irresolute  and  back- 
ward. He  thinks  us  at  present  in  an  odd 
state,  neither  in  peace  nor  war,  neither  de- 
pendent nor  independent;  but  he  thinks 
that  we  shall  soon  assume  a  character  more 
decisive.  He  thinks  that  we  have  the 
power  of  preserving  ourselves;  and  that 
even  if  we  should  be  driven  to  the  dis- 
agreeable necessity  of  assuming  a  total  in- 
dependency, and  set  up  a  separate  state, 
we  can  maintain  it.  .  .  .  This  letter  must 
be  secret,  my  dear ;  —  at  least  communi- 
cated with  great  discretion."  Evidently 
John  understood  that  a  woman's  secret  is 
always  shared  with  her  dearest  friends. 

The  defection  of  Doctor  Church  ^  is  the 
topic    of    several    excited    paragraphs    in 

1  See  "  Romance  of  Old  New  England  Roof  trees." 
192 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

x^bigail's  letters  the  following  fall.  Mrs. 
Adams  writes,  October  9,  1775 :  "  You 
have  doubtless  heard  of  the  villany  of  one 
who  has  professed  himself  a  patriot.  But 
let  not  that  man  be  trusted  who  can  violate 
private  faith  and  cancel  solemn  covenants, 
who  can  leap  over  moral  law  and  laugh  at 
Christianity.  How  is  he  to  be  bound 
whom  neither  honour  nor  conscience 
holds  ? "  A  few  days  later  she  writes 
again :  "  \Vliat  are  your  thoughts  with  re- 
gard to  Doctor  Church  ?  Had  you  much 
knowledge  of  him?  I  think  you  had  not 
intimate  acquaintance  with  him.  It  is 
a  matter  of  great  speculation  w^hat  will 
be  his  punishment;  the  people  are  much 
enraged  against  him ;  if  he  is  set  at  lib- 
erty, even  after  he  has  received  a  severe 
punishment,  I  do  not  think  he  will  be  safe. 
He  will  be  despised  and  detested  by  every 
one,  and  many  suspicions  will  remain  in 

193 


OLD   XEW   EXGLA^^D   CHURCHES 

the  minds  of  people  in  regard  to  oiia* 
rulers ;  they  are  for  supposing  this  person 
is  not  sincere  and  that  one  they  have  jeal- 
ousy of."  John  Adams's  reply  to  his 
wife's  comments  reflect  the  sturdy  honesty 
of  the  man :  "  The  unaccountable  event 
which  you  allude  to  has  reached  this  place 
and  occasioned  a  fall.  I  would  be  glad, 
however,  that  the  worst  construction  might 
not  be  put.  Let  him  have  fair  play; 
though  I  doubt.  The  man  who  violates 
private  faith,  cancels  solemn  obligations, 
whom  neither  honour  nor  conscience  holds, 
shall  never  be  knowingly  trusted  by  me. 
Had  I  known,  when  I  first  voted  for  a 
Director  of  an  Hospital  what  I  heard  after- 
ward, when  I  was  down,  I  would  not  have 
voted  as  I  did.  Open,  barefaced  immoral- 
ity ought  not  to  be  so  countenanced." 

Abigail,  as  is  usual  with  a  woman,  has, 
however,  the  last  word  on  the  subject,  and 
194 


OLD  XEW  E^^GLAXD   CHURCHES 

"  improves  "  the  occasion  by  an  ethical  ex- 
ordium :  "  I  have  been  led  to  think  that 
he  who  neglects  his  duty  to  his  Maker  may 
well  be  expected  to  be  deficient  and  in- 
sincere in  his  duty  toward  the  public. 
Even  suppose  him  to  possess  a  large  share 
of  what  is  called  honour  and  public  spirit, 
yet  do  not  these  men  by  their  bad  example, 
by  a  loose  immoral  conduct,  corrupt  the 
minds  of  youth,  vitiate  the  morals  of  the 
age  and  thus  injure  the  public  more  than 
they  can  compensate  by  intrepidity,  gen- 
erosity, and  honour  ?  Let  revenge  or  ambi- 
tion, pride,  lust,  or  profit  tempt  these  men 
to  a  base  and  vile  action,  you  may  as  well 
hope  to  bind  up  a  hungry  tiger  with  a 
cobAveb  as  to  hold  such  debauched  patriots 
in  the  visionary  chains  of  decency,  or  to 
charm  them  with  the  intellectual  beauty 
of  truth  and  reason." 

In  many  of  the  letters  Abigail  addresses 

195 


OLD  XEW  e:n^gland  chueches 

John  as  "  her  dearest  friend/'  and  always 
in  this  unique  correspondence  there  is  a 
charming  exchange  of  opinions  concerning 
books  and  things.  Thus,  surrounded  bv 
household  cares  though  she  was,  we  find  the 
parson's  daughter  quoting  Shakespeare  to 
her  absent  husband,  and  he,  though  op- 
pressed with  politics,  dropping  in  turn  into 
Latin  verse  when  that  form  best  expressed 
his  meaning.  On  one  of  these  latter  occa- 
sions Abigail  observes,  with  delightful 
naturalness :  "  I  smiled  at  your  couplet  of 
Latin,  Your  daughter  may  be  able  to  con- 
strue it,  as  she  has  already  made  some 
considerable  proficiency  in  her  accidence; 
but  her  mamma  was  obliged  to  get  it  trans- 
lated." In  the  same  letter  she  calls  for 
Lord  Chesterfield's  Letters,  which  she  has 
lately  heard  highly  commended.  A  day  or 
two  later  she  playfully  writes :  "  In  the 
new  code  of  laws  which  I  suppose  it  will 
196 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

be  necessary  for  you  to  make,  I  desire  you 
would  remember  the  ladies  and  be  more 
generous  and  favourable  to  them  than  your 
ancestors.  Do  not  put  such  unlimited 
power  into  the  hands  of  the  husbands.  Re- 
member all  men  would  be  tyrants  if  they 
could.  If  particular  care  and  attention 
is  not  paid  to  the  ladies,"  she  threatens, 
"  we  are  determined  to  foment  a  rebellion, 
and  will  not  hold  ourselves  bound  by  any 
laws  in  which  we  have  no  voice  or  repre- 
sentation." Here,  though  in  jest,  spoke 
our  first  woman  siiffragist ! 

Chesterfield's  Letters,  however,  were  not 
to  be  hers.  "  They  are  a  chequered  set," 
the  husband  in  Philadelphia  writes.  "  You 
would  not  choose  to  have  them  in  your 
library.  They  are  like  Congreve's  plays, 
stained  with  libertine  morals  and  base 
principles.  ...  As  to  your  extraordinary 
code  of  laws,  I  cannot  but  laugh.    We  have 

197 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

been  told  that  our  struggle  has  loosened 
the  bonds  of  government  everj^vhere;  that 
children  and  apprentices  were  disobedient ; 
that  schools  and  colleges  were  grown  tur- 
bulent; that  Indians  slighted  their  guar- 
dians, and  negroes  grew  insolent  to  their 
masters.  But  jour  letter  was  the  first 
inforaiation  that  another  tribe,  more  nu- 
merous and  powerful  than  all  the  rest,  were 
grown  discontented.  This  is  rather  too 
coarse  a  compliment,  but  you  are  so  saucy, 
I  won't  blot  it  out.  Depend  upon  it,  we 
know  better  than  to  repeal  our  masculine 
systems.  In  practice,  you  know,  we  are 
the  subjects.  We  have  only  the  name  of 
masters,  and  rather  than  give  up  this 
which  would  completely  subject  us  to  the 
despotism  of  the  petticoat,  I  hope  General 
Washington  and  all  our  brave  heroes 
would  fight;  I  am  sure  every  good  politi- 
cian would  plot," 
198 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

So  the  letters  go  on,  sometimes  playful, 
often  historical,  and  every  now  and  again 
fairly  throbbing  with  the  passionate  long- 
ing of  husband  and  wife  to  be  together. 
In  the  middle  of  March,  1177,  John 
writes:  "  The  spring  advances  very  rap- 
idly and  all  nature  will  soon  be  clothed  in 
her  gayest  robes,  reviving  in  my  longing 
imagination  my  little  fami  and  its  dear 
inhabitants.  What  pleasure  has  not  this 
vile  war  deprived  me  of  ?  I  want  to  wan- 
der in  my  meadows,  to  ramble  over  my 
mountains,  and  to  sit  in  solitude,  or  with 
her  who  has  all  my  heart,  by  the  side  of 
the  brooks.  The  pride  and  pomp  of  war, 
the  continual  sound  of  drums  and  fife  as 
well  played  as  any  in  the  world,  the  pranc- 
ings  and  tramplings  of  the  Light  Horse, 
numbers  of  which  are  paraded  in  the 
streets  every  day,  have  no  charms  for  me. 
I  long  for  rural  and  domestic  scenes,  for 

199 


OLD  NEW   ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

the  warbling  of  birds  and  the  prattling 
of  my  children.  .  .  ."  July  8,  1777: 
"  Xext  month  completes  three  years  I  have 
been  devoted  to  the  service  of  liberty.  A 
slavery  it  has  been  to  me,  whatever  the 
world  may  think  of  it.  .  .  .  The  loss  of 
property  affects  me  little.  All  other  hard 
things  I  despise,  but  the  loss  of  your  com- 
pany and  that  of  my  dear  babes,  for  so 
long  a  time,  I  consider  as  a  loss  of  so  much 
solid  happiness.  The  tender  social  feel- 
ings of  my  heart,  which  have  distressed 
me  beyond  all  utterance  in  my  most  busy 
active  scenes,  as  well  as  in  the  numerous 
hours  of  melancholy  solitude,  are  known 
only  to  God  and  my  o^vn  soul.  How  often 
have  I  seen  my  dearest  friend  a  widow, 
and  her  charming  prattlers  orphans  ex- 
posed to  all  the  influence  of  unfeeling,  im- 
pious tyrants!  Yet  I  can  appeal  to  my 
final  Judge,  the  horrid  vision  has  never 
200 


OLD   NEW  EXGLAIs^D   CHURCHES 

for  one  moment  shaken  the  resolution  of 
mj  heart." 

The  indomitable  patience,  the  steady 
persistence  of  John  Adams's  statesman- 
ship at  Philadelphia,  were  quite  equalled 
by  Abigail's  display  of  heroic  virtues  at 
home.  Wisely  she  ordered  the  affairs  of 
the  household,  and  saw  to  the  cultivation 
of  the  little  farm.  Over  the  education  of 
her  children  she  had  a  watchful  eye,  and 
under  her  care  the  boy  John  Quincy  early 
developed  conspicuous  manliness.  The 
little  fellow,  when  barely  nine  years  old, 
had  fearlessly  assumed  the  duty  of  "  post- 
rider,"  going  on  horseback  unattended 
over  the  eleven  long  miles  of  country  road 
which  stretch  between  his  home  at  Brain- 
tree  (now  named  Quincy  Adams  after 
him)  and  Boston  to  fetch  and  carry  the 
remarkable  letters  of  his  remarkable 
parents. 

201 


OLD   XEW  E^'GLAXD   CHUKCHES 

But  now  Mistress  Abigail  is  to  lose 
the  boy  as  well  as  his  father.  Hardly  had 
the  statesman  returned  from  Philadelphia 
in  the  fall  of  '77  than  there  came  the  news 
of  his  appointment  to  the  Court  of  France. 
To  all  the  little  family  this  further  separa- 
tion meant  a  cruel  blow.  And  after  delib- 
eration it  was  decided  that  the  man  child  be 
taken  with  papa  for  the  sake  of  the  voyage 
and  the  education  of  travel.  This  wrung 
the  mother's  heart,  but  there  is  no  thought 
of  shirking,  for  is  not  a  needy  country 
calling  its  statesman-son  to  council  ?  It 
is  during  the  loneliness  of  the  eighteen 
months  which  followed  the  departure  of 
father  and  son  from  the  beach  at  Mount 
Wollaston  Farm,  close  to  Norton  Quincy's 
house,  that  Abigail  Adams's  letters  show 
for  the  first  time  that  streak  of  jealousy 
which  proves  her  to  have  been  but  yet  a 
woman.  Because  her  husband  has  not 
202 


OLD  yEW  EKGLAN^D  CHURCHES 

been  so  lavish  of  tenderness  as  in  the 
Philadelphia  correspondence,  she  reproves 
him  for  "  inattention."  His  answer  must, 
hov^ever,  have  amply  soothed  her  hurt, 
"  For  heaven's  sake,  my  dear,  don't  in- 
dulge a  thought  that  it  is  possible  for  me 
to  neglect  or  forget  all  that  is  dear  to 
me  in  this  world.  It  is  impossible  for 
me  to  write  as  I  did  in  America.  What 
should  I  write  ?  It  is  not  safe  to  write 
anything  that  one  is  not  willing  should 
go  into  all  the  ne\vspapers  of  the  world.  I 
never  know  what  conveyance  is  safe.  God 
knows  I  don't  spend  my  time  in  idleness, 
or  in  gazing  at  curiosities.  I  never  wrote 
more  letters,  however  empty  they  may  have 
been.  ...  It  would  be  an  easy  thing  for 
me  to  ruin  you  and  your  children  by  an 
indiscreet  letter,  and  what  is  more,  it 
would  be  easy  to  throw  our  country  into 
convulsions.      For   God's   sake   never   re- 

203 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

proach  me  again  with  not  writing.  ...  If 
I  were  to  tell  you  all  the  tenderness  of  my 
heart  I  should  do  nothing  but  write  to 

you." 

John  Adams's  whole  life,  in  truth,  was 
at  this  period  devoted  to  the  service  of 
the  da^ATiing  republic.  When  he  returned 
to  Braintree  August  2,  1779,  after  an  ab- 
sence of  a  year  and  a  half,  he  was  only 
one  week  on  his  peaceful  farm  before  he 
was  sent  to  draw  up  the  Constitution  of 
Massachusetts,  and  from  that  Convention 
he  was  obliged  again  to  go  abroad,  this 
time  to  assist  in  the  negotiations  for  peace. 
It  is  pleasant  to  know  that,  soon  after  this, 
when  he  was  at  the  Court  of  St.  James  as 
our  first  minister,  Mrs.  Adams  was  able 
to  join  him.  Thus  the  Weymouth  parson's 
daughter  is  seen  a  matronly  beauty  of 
forty,  against  a  background  wholly  new. 
From  a  life  of  the  utmost  retirement  in  a 
204 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUKCHES 

small  and  quiet  country  town,  she  is  sud- 
denly transferred  to  the  busy  and  bustling 
scenes  of  the  wealthiest  city  of  Europe. 
Never  had  an  American  woman  been  in 
like  position,  for  she  was  the  first  repre- 
sentative of  her  sex  from  the  United 
States  at  the  Court  of  Great  Britain.  She 
passed  with  grace,  none  the  less,  through 
the  ordinary  form  of  presentation  at  court, 
and  until  her  husband's  return  lived  be- 
comingly the  ceremonious  life  necessitated 
by  her  position.  Very  glad,  however,  was 
she  to  come  back  again  to  America,  and 
gladder  still,  later  on,  after  serving  as 
^'  first  lady  "  in  the  White  Hoiise,  to  take 
up  her  residence  once  more  in  "  still,  calm, 
happy  Braintree."  There  she  and  her  hus- 
band spent  the  remainder  of  their  days, 
honoured  by  their  townspeople,  and  sought 
out  by  the  most  eminent  men  of  Europe 
and  America. 

205 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

Parson  Smith  served  in  the  Weymouth 
parish  up  to  the  very  time  when  he  died, 
September  17,  1783,  a  hoary-headed  old 
man  of  almost  eighty.  His  church  is  no 
longer  standing;  it  seems  to  have  been 
the  fashion  to  pull  down  the  meeting-house 
and  build  a  new  one  whenever  the  finances 
of  the  community  warranted  the  expendi- 
ture. But  one  very  interesting  temple 
survives  to  link  the  Adamses  with  our 
narrative,  and  that  is  the  imposing  edifice 
provided  by  John  Adams  in  his  will  and 
finished  in  1828.  Under  its  portico  the 
remains  of  the  statesman-President  and 
those  of  his  "  beloved  and  only  wife  "  Abi- 
gail, who  had  died  some  eight  years  before 
him,  were  eventually  entombed.  Their 
sarcophagi  rest  in  a  square  chamber  solidly 
walled  with  granite  and  closed  with  iron 
doors,  and  in  a  similar  room  adjoining 
lies  the  dust  of  John  Quincy  Adams  beside 
206 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

that  of  his  wife.  Quite  lately,  in  response 
to  urgent  demand,  the  building  has  been 
thrown  open  on  certain  days  to  the  crowds 
of  historical  pilgrims  who  annually  flock 
to  Quincy  that  they  may  see  the  spot 
sacred  to  the  memory  of  this  greatest  of 
American  households. 


207 


EAST  APTHORP  AND  HIS  PARISH 
TROUBLES ' 

jyEAVTlYTJL  old  Christ  Church, 
M~\  in  Cambridge,  may  be  said  to  be 
the  godchild,  after  a  fashion,  of 
King's  Chapel  in  Boston.  For  it  was  by 
the  rector  of  the  old  parish,  good  Doctor 
Caner,  that,  almost  one  hundred  and  fifty 
years  ago,  this  letter  was  drawn  up  and 
sent  to  the  famous  Society  for  the  Propa- 
gation of  the  Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts, 
the  body  then  in  charge  of  the  entire  mis- 
sionary activity  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land. 

1  Note  :  The  data  for  this  chapter  was  found  prin- 
cipally in  "History  of  Christ  Church,"  Cambridge 
(1893),  by  Samuel  F.  Batchelder. 

208 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUKCHES 

"  To  the  Revd.  Dr.  Bearcroft,  Secretary 
to  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts: 

"  Boston,  5  April,  1759. 
"  Reverend  Sir  ; 

"  We  the  subscribers,  for  ourselves,  and 
in  the  name  and  at  the  desire  of  a  consid- 
erable number  of  families  professing  the 
Church  of  England  at  Cambridge,  Water- 
town,  and  places  adjacent,  humbly  beg 
leave  to  represent  to  the  Society  the  diffi- 
culties we  labour  under  in  regard  to  the 
means  of  public  worship,  and  to  entreat 
their  charitable  assistance.  There  is  no 
church  nearer  to  us  than  Boston,  which  is 
from  some  of  us  eight,  from  others  ten 
and  twelve  miles  distant;  unless,  for 
shortening  the  way,  we  submit  to  the  in- 
conveniences of  crossing  a  large  ferry, 
which  in  stormy  weather,  and  in  the  winter 

209 


OLD  ^^EW  ENGLAND   CHURCHES 

season  especially,  is  very  troublesome  and 
sometimes  impracticable.  The  Society  will 
easily  conceive  the  difficulty  of  conveying 
whole  families  to  a  place  of  public  wor- 
ship at  such  a  distance,  and  attended  by 
such  obstructions.  To  remedy  this,  we 
have  agreed  to  build  a  Church  at  Cam- 
bridge, which,  as  it  is  in  the  centre,  may 
indifferently  serve  the  neighbouring  places, 
of  Charlestown,  Watertown,  and  New- 
towne ;  besides  providing  for  the  young 
Gentlemen  who  are  students  at  the  College 
here,  many  of  whom,  as  they  have  been 
brought  up  in  the  Church  of  England,  are 
desirous  of  attending  the  worship  of  it. 
We  have  also  made  application  to  Mr. 
Apthorp,  for  whom  we  have  a  great  esteem, 
and  who  is  willing  to  undertake  the  care 
of  such  a  church,  on  supposition  we  can 
procure  him  an  honourable  support.    It  is 

210 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

for  this  purpose,  we  have  presumed  to 
apply  to  the  Society,  being  sensible  that 
without  this  kind  assistance  our  attempt 
would  be  frustrate.  For  our  parts,  we 
purpose  and  promise,  for  ourselves  and 
in  behalf  of  those  we  represent,  to  provide 
a  Parsonage  house  and  a  Glebe,  and  to 
pay  annually  to  M""  Apthorp  twenty 
pounds  sterling,  if  the  Society  shall  think 
proper  to  countenance  our  design,  &  assist 
us  with  such  farther  provision  as  may 
enable  him  to  settle  among  us.  We  shall 
indeed  be  ready  to  comply  with  any  farther 
instructions  the  Society  shall  please  to 
communicate,  within  the  compass  of  our 
ability;  and  shall  make  such  authentic 
instruments  for  accomplishing  what  we 
propose,  as  the  Society  shall  intimate  to 
be  proper.  Humbly  begging  a  favourable 
answer  to  our  request,  to  take  leave  to 

211' 


OLD   Js^EW  EXGLAXI)   CHURCHES 

profess  that  we  are,  Rev.  Sir,  the  Societies' 
and  your  most  humble  servants, 

"  Heney  Vassal, 
'  John  Vassal, 
'  Thomas  Oliver, 
'  Robert  Temple, 
'  Joseph  Lee, 
'  Ralph  Inman, 
'  David  Phips, 
'  James  Apthorp." 

Hardly  was  this  petition  started  on  its 
long  voyage  across  the  Atlantic  before  the 
promoters  of  the  enterprise,  without  wait- 
ing for  the  result  of  their  request,  began 
their  building  subscription.  One  of  the 
most  liberal  gifts  came  from  the  rector- 
elect,  the  young  East  Apthorp,  who  con- 
tributed to  the  fund  his  salary  until  he 
should  enter  into  active  service,  —  a  gift 
which,  with  the  increase  soon  allowed  by 
212 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

the  English  mission,  amounted,  for  the 
two  and  a  half  years  which  must  intervene 
before  the  church  should  be  ready  for 
occupancy,  to  over  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  pounds. 

East  Apthorp  was  at  this  time  a  youth 
of  twenty-six,  "  ardent,  impulsive,  inex- 
perienced, confiding,  of  sensitive  feelings 
and  high  spirit."  He  had  been  born  in 
Brighton,  then  known  as  Little  Cambridge, 
his  father  being  Charles  Apthorp,  a  well- 
known  Boston  merchant.  Young  East  as 
a  lad  attended  the  Boston  Latin  School, 
whence  he  proceeded  to  the  English  Cam- 
bridge to  complete  his  education.  The 
death  of  his  father  at  the  close  of  the  year 
1Y58  recalled  him  to  his  native  land,  and 
shortly  after  his  return  he  married  Eliza- 
beth, the  daughter  of  Judge  Foster  Hutch- 
inson. Thus  well  educated,  well  born,  and 
well  settled  in  life,  this  young  man  was 

213 


OLD  XEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

held  to  be  an  ideal  rector  for  the  new 
church. 

The  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts  (established  by 
King  William  III.  on  the  sixteenth  of 
June,  1701),  had  promptly  acceded  to  the 
request  of  the  Cambridge  petitioners.  Al- 
though it  was  already  supporting  in  Massa- 
chusetts King's  Chapel,  Christ  Church, 
and  Trinity  in  Boston,  St.  Michael's  at 
Marblehead,  St.  Peter's  at  Salem,  St. 
Paul's  at  Newburyport,  St.  Thomas's  at 
Taunton,  St.  Paul's  at  Hopkinton,  Christ 
Church  at  Braintree  (now  Quincy),  and 
St.  Andrew's  at  Scituate,  it  cheerfully 
added  the  Cambridge  enterprise  to  its  list, 
and  appointed  as  rector  the  choice  of  the 
Cambridge  people,  with  a  salary  allowance 
from  them  of  fifty  pounds  sterling  per 
annum. 

In  the  architect  appointed  to  draw  up 
214 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUKCHES 

plans  for  the  church,  the  little  group  of 
Cambridge  gentlemen  were  very  happy. 
For  they  chose  Mr.  Peter  Harrison,  then 
of  Newport,  Rhode  Island,  who,  ten  years 
before,  had  designed  King's  Chapel  in 
Boston.  Mr.  Harrison  had  probably  been 
induced  to  come  to  this  country  by  Bishop 
Berkeley,^  whose  story  is  bound  up  with 
old  Trinity,  Newport,  and  he  had  brought 
with  him  the  best  traditions  of  Sir  Chris- 
topher Wren,  who  was,  at  this  period,  the 
leading  architectural  spirit  of  England. 
He  is  believed  to  have  worked  in  the  old 
country  upon  the  palace  of  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough,  at  Woodstock,  and  upon 
other  similarly  imposing  piles.  His  de- 
sign for  Christ  Church  has  been  pro- 
nounced a  real  advance  over  King's 
Chapel.  Erom  its  first  erection  the  edifice 
has   been   considered   by   connoisseurs   in 

1  See  "  Romance  of  Old  New  England  Roof  trees." 

215 


OLD  :new  exglaxd  churches 

architecture  one  of  the  best  constructed 
churches  in  New  England.  In  general 
appearance  it  is  not  greatly  changed  to-day 
from  the  original  design,  and  its  beauty  of 
line  and  stateliness  of  aspect  has  inspired 
many  a  poet,  not  the  least  of  them  Oliver 
Wendell  Holmes,  who  wrote : 

"  Our  ancient  church  !  its  lofty  tower, 

Beneath  the  loftier  spire, 
Is  shadowed  when  the  sunset  hour 

Clothes  the  tall  shaft  in  fire ; 
It  sinks  beyond  the  distant  eye 

Long  ere  the  glittering  vane, 
High  wheeling  in  the  western  sky. 

Has  faded  o'er  the  plain." 

The  comer-stone  of  the  church  seems  to 
have  been  laid  rather  more  than  a  year 
after  the  subscription  was  begun.  On 
this  occasion,  a  stately  ceremony,  doubt- 
less, Sir  Francis  Bernard,  Bart.,  the  re- 
cently appointed  governor  of  the  province 
of  Massachusetts  Bay,  was  present.  The 
216 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

stone  bore  the  following  inscription,  prob- 
ably from  the  pen  of  the  learned  Mr. 
Apthorp : 

"  Deo.  ^terno. 

Patri.  Filio.  Spiritvi.  S. 

Hanc.  ^dem. 

Sub.  Avspiciis.  Illustriss.  Societatis. 

Promovendo.  Evaiigelio. 

In.  Partibus.  Transmarinis. 

Institutso. 

Consecrabant.  Cantabrigiensis. 

Ecclesise.  Anglicanae.  Filii. 

In. 

Christianse.  Fidei.  et.  Charitatis. 

Incrementvm 

A.  D.  MDCCLX. 

Provinciam.  Procurante. 

V.  CI. 
Francisco.  Bernardo."  ^ 

1  Under  the  guidance  of  the  most  venerable  Soci- 
ety founded  for  Propagating  the  Gospel  in  Foreign 
Parts,  the  inhabitants  of  Cambridge,  members  of  the 
Church  of  England,  dedicated  this  house  of  worship 
to  the  Eternal  God,  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost, 
for  the  increase  of  Christian  faith  and  charity,  in 
the  year  of  our  Lord  1760,  the  Honourable  Francis 
Bernard  being  governor  of  the  province. 

217 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

The  opening  service  of  the  church  was 
held  on  October  15,  1761,  a  large  and  not 
altogether  enthusiastic  congregation  being 
present.  For  in  the  pews  might  have  been 
noticed  an  astonishing  proportion  of  the 
old  Orthodox  inhabitants  of  Cambridge, 
who  had  come  out  full  of  curiosity  and 
distrust  to  witness  the  initial  proceedings 
of  an  organization  that  had  brought  into 
their  midst  the  very  elements  of  popery 
and  confusion  from  which  their  forefathers 
had  thought  to  free  themselves  forever. 
Cambridge  had  gotten  on  for  almost  one 
hundred  and  thirty  years  with  the  stern 
creed,  the  bare  meeting-house,  and  the  un- 
comfortable doctrine  of  the  dissenters,  and 
it  felt  itself  doing  very  well.  So  many 
silent  scoffers,  one  may  be  sure,  were  seated 
in  Christ  Church  on  the  day  of  that  first 
service.  The  sermon  was  "  On  the  Con- 
stitution of  a  Christian  Church,"  and  the 
218 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

ruddy-faced,  strenuous  young  rector  de- 
livered it  with  great  unction  from  the 
picturesque  wine-glass  pulpit,  to  rows  of 
high,  square  box  pews,  well  filled  by  gen- 
tlemen in  cocked  hats,  laced  coats,  and 
white  silk  stockings,  accompanied  by 
ladies  in  flowered  silks,  high-heeled  shoes, 
and  all  the  other  outward  and  visible  signs 
of  the  fashion  of  1761.  If  he  noticed  the 
unbending  outsiders  he  gave  no  sign,  for 
he  was  very  happy. 

And  then,  having  removed  his  vestments 
and  received  the  congratulations  of  the 
proprietors,  who  paid  him  the  delicate 
compliment  of  requesting  that  he  print  his 
discourse.  Dr.  East  Apthorp  walked  joy- 
ously out  of  the  church,  across  the  Com- 
mon, to  his  own  comfortable  and  well- 
kept  home.  For  while  the  church  had  been 
in  process  of  erection  the  young  clergy- 
man had  built  himself  the  stately  mansion 

219 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUKCHES 

of  Georgian  architecture  which  is  to-day 
still  standing  (10  Linden  Street),  and 
which  is  known  all  over  Cambridge  as 
"  the  Bishop's  Palace,"  even  under  its 
modern  disguise  of  Apthorp  Hall,  a  college 
dormitory.  Only  by  the  addition  of  a 
deforming  third  story  (built  when  Mr. 
John  Borland  came  in  possession  of  the 
house,  the  better  to  accommodate  his  do- 
mestic slaves),  is  the  building  changed  on 
the  exterior  from  its  original  appearance. 
The  interested  visitor  may  yet  enter  its 
wide  hall  with  the  elaborate  staircase 
balustrade,  may  yet  admire  the  stately 
proportions  of  its  rooms,  and  the  wealth 
of  hand-carving  on  cornice  and  mantel, 
may  yet  gaze  in  astonishment  at  the  intri- 
cate patterns  of  the  quaint  delft  tiles  in 
the  fireplace  where  Doctor  Apthorp 
warmed  his  hands  after  his  homeward 
walk  that  long-ago  Sunday. 
220 


(,'iiKisTs   (urncii   and   "Thk   iushoi's   pai,ack. 

OAMIJKIIXiK,     MASS. 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

To-day  these  signs  of  wealth  and  taste 
excite  only  our  admiration,  but  a  hundred 
and  forty  years  ago  their  principal  effect 
was  to  increase  most  unpleasantly  the  dis- 
trust with  which  the  establishment  of  a 
Church  of  England  Society  in  Cambridge 
had  from  the  first  been  regarded.  It  was 
believed  in  all  sincerity  that  the  Episco- 
palians would  now  endeavour  to  impose 
their  form  of  faith  upon  the  very  people 
who  had  come  over  to  the  new  country  to 
escape  such  traditions.  To  the  Reverend 
Dr.  Jonathan  Mayhew  it  was  plain  that 
"  a  certain  superb  edifice  near  Harvard 
College  was  even  from  the  foundation  de- 
signed for  the  palace  of  one  of  the  humble 
successors  of  the  Apostles."  And  those 
were  days  when  people  said  very  plainly 
what  they  thought. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  very  soon,  un- 
der stress  of  the  attacks,  both  open  and  cov- 

221 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

ert,  which  were  aimed  at  him,  the  face  of 
the  young  rector  of  Christ  Church  became 
lined  with  anxiety.  He  began  to  realize 
what  had  been  the  meaning  of  his  old 
college  chum,  the  Bishop  of  Bristol,  when 
he  wrote  him :  "  I  need  not  urge  to  you 
the  consideration  of  the  situation  in  which 
an  Episcopal  clergpiian  finds  himself  in 
your  parts,  and  of  the  great  circumspec- 
tion which  it  requires."  Mr.  Apthorp,  in 
his  innocent  desire  to  add  still  another 
noble  specimen  of  colonial  architecture 
to  the  buildings  already  in  Cambridge, 
had  been  very  far  from  "  circumspect," 
as  it  proved.  He  soon  found  popular  feel- 
ing running  so  high  that  he  was  moved 
to  publish  his  views  on  the  Establishment 
in  a  pamphlet  entitled  "  Considerations  on 
the  Institution  and  Conduct  of  the  Society 
for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel."  And 
this  step  was  his  undoing. 
222 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

As  has  ever  been  the  case,  the  challenge 
was  eagerly  met  by  the  controversialists 
spoiling  for  a  fight.  Doctor  Mayhew  pub- 
lished an  acrimonious  reply,  and  the  war 
of  the  pamphlets  raged  fiercely  on.  Doctor 
Apthorp,  who  has  come  down  to  us  as 
a  most  mild  and  Christian  gentleman, 
suffered  very  keenly  during  this  contro- 
versy. The  position  in  which  he  had  been 
placed  was  a  singularly  trying  one; 
"  though  actuated  by  the  best  motives,"  to 
use  his  own  words,  "  and  a  desire  to  do 
such  service  as  he  could  to  the  Church  of 
England  and  his  country,  he  had  sustained 
as  rude  a  storm  as  perhaps  ever  beat  upon 
a  person  of  his  station." 

The  end  of  it  all  came  soon.  In  a  press 
notice  of  the  time  one  reads :  "  Boston, 
Sept.  13th,  1764.  (Thurs.)  Monday  last 
sailed  from  hence  the  Hannah,  Captain 
Robert  Jarvis,  for  London,  in  which  the 

223 


OLD   Is^EW  EXGLAXD   CHURCHES 

Rev.  Mr.  East  Apthorp,  Missionary  for 
Cambridge,  .  .  .  and  several  other  per- 
sons went  passengers." 

The  alleged  excuse  for  this  summary  re- 
treat was  the  settlement  of  urgent  private 
affairs  in  England,  but  shortly  after 
reaching  London  Mr.  Apthorp  resigned  his 
Cambridge  mission  and  took  up  residence 
for  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  a  land 
where  bishops  were  respected  rather  than 
ridiculed.  In  his  adopted  country  he  re- 
ceived the  recognition  his  talents  deserved, 
was  appointed  Vicar  of  Croydon,  and  in 
1790  was  actually  offered  a  bishopric  — 
Kildare  —  which  he,  however,  refused  on 
account  of  his  failing  health.  His  last 
years  were  spent  in  his  university  home, 
the  English  Cambridge,  and  he  lies  buried 
in  the  chapel  of  Jesus  College,  with  the 
following  inscription  composed  by  him- 
self upon  his  tombstone : 
224 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

"  East  Apthorp,  S.  T.  P., 

Hujus  coUegii  nuper  alumnus  et  socius, 

JEdis  Cathedralis  S'ti  Pauli  prebendarius. 

Decessit  in  fide  die  XVI.  Aprilis. 

MDCCCXVI.  iEtatis  LXXXIV. 

Expectans  misericordiam 

Domini  Nostri  Jesu  Ciiristi 

In  vitam  seternam."  ^ 

The  bitter  and  distrustful  feeling 
against  Episcopacy  somewhat  subsided 
after  Mr.  Apthorp's  departure  from  Cam- 
bridge, but  for  three  years  Christ  Church 
had  no  settled  rector.  Then  in  June, 
1767,  the  Reverend  Winwood  Serjeant  ar- 
rived in  Cambridge  and  took  charge  of 
the  mission.  It  was  during  his  happy  eight 
years  of  ministry  that  the  William  and 
Mary  communion  service,  still  in  use,  was 
presented    to    the    church    by    Governor 

*East  Apthorp,  professor  of  divinity,  a  former 
graduate  and  fellow  of  this  college,  prebend  of  St. 
Paul's  Cathedral.  Departed  in  the  faith  April  16, 
1816,  aged  84,  looking  for  the  mercy  of  Our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  unto  eternal  life. 

225 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

Hutchinson,  the  successor  of  Governor  Ber- 
nard. But  these  peaceful  days  were  not 
long  to  last,  for  the  clouds  of  the  American 
Revolution  had  already  begun  to  loom 
large.  In  a  letter  dated  March  12,  ITT-t, 
Mr.  Serjeant  writes :  "  The  populace  are 
almost  daily  engaged  in  riots  and  tumults. 
On  the  7th  inst.  they  made  a  second  de- 
struction of  thirty  chests  of  tea.  Political 
commotions  run  extremely  high  in  Boston ; 
if  not  suppressed  soon,  the  whole  province 
is  in  danger  of  being  thrown  into  anarchy 
and  confusion."  Three  months  later: 
"  Boston  is  in  a  terrible  situation,  and 
will  be  much  more  so  if  they  do  not 
submit  to  government  before  fall ;  the 
poor  will  be  most  miserably  distressed  and 
the  town  will  be  absolutely  ruined." 

This  must  have  been  one  of  Mr.  Ser- 
jeant's   last    letters    as    rector    of    Christ 
Church,  for  his  ministry  soon  came  to  an 
226 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

untimely  end.  Already  the  proprietors  of 
the  church  had  found  Cambridge  too  hot 
for  them,  Major  John  Vassal,  John  Bor- 
land (the  purchaser  of  the  "  Bishop's 
Palace"),  and  others  of  the  Tory  aristo- 
crats having  early  in  the  summer  aban- 
doned their  homes  and  sought  in  Boston 
the  protection  of  the  King's  forces. 
Thomas  Oliver,  to  be  sure,  remained  till 
September,  and  left  his  home  (now  Elm- 
wood,  the  James  Russell  Lowell  place) 
only  when  an  armed  mob  appeared  in  front 
of  the  house  and  wrung  from  him  his 
resignation  as  president  of  the  council. 
But  after  that  he,  too,  sought  perforce  the 
hospitality  of  General  Gage. 

While  we  have  no  actual  proof  that  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Serjeant  was  subjected  to 
violence  while  in  Cambridge,  a  letter 
written  (probably  from  Newbury  port)  in 
the  August  of  1775  would  indicate  that 

227 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

his  house  also  had  been  attacked :  ^'  Fam- 
ilies, however  inoffensive,"  he  writes,  "  sus- 
pected to  retain  any  loyal  principles,  were 
treated  with  the  utmost  insolence  and 
rigour.  I  was  obliged  to  retreat  with  my 
family  fifty  miles  into  the  country  to 
Kingston,  in  New  Hampshire,  where  I 
was  in  hopes  of  meeting  with  a  peaceful 
retirement  among  rural  peasants,  but  my 
hopes  were  soon  disappointed.  The  rest- 
less spirit  of  fanaticism  renders  unintelli- 
gent minds  more  licentious  and  ferocious. 
I  found  it  necessary  to  remove  to  Xew- 
bury,  where  I  hoped  to  be  protected  from 
the  insults  of  the  common  people.  I  have 
lost  not  less  than  £300  in  household  fur- 
niture and  books  destroyed  and  pillaged." 
All  the  rest  of  the  Serjeants'  family  his- 
tory is,  indeed,  sad  and  pitiable.  But  it 
is  not  exceptional.  The  Episcopal  clergy 
frequently  suffered  much  in  Revolutionary 
228 


OLD   IS^EW  ENGLAND   CHURCHES 

times  because  of  their  loyalty  to  the 
mother  country. 

With  the  history  of  Cambridge  during, 
as  well  as  before,  the  Revolution,  the 
Christ  Church  parish  is  intimately  bound 
up.  "  The  Bishop's  Palace  "  served  both 
as  headquarters  and  barracks  for  General 
Putnam  and  his  Connecticut  troops  till 
about  the  time  of  the  Battle  of  Bunker 
Hill,  and  after  the  surrender  of  Saratoga 
it  became  the  residence  of  Burgoyne.  As 
for  the  church  itself,  it  supplied  quarters 
for  Captain  John  Chester's  Connecticut 
troops,  soldiers  who  blithely  melted  into 
rebel  bullets  the  Tory  organ  pipes,  and 
felt  themselves  quite  at  liberty  to  do 
as  they  would  with  other  more  sacred 
churchly  relics  presented  by  the  English 
Establishment. 

Yet  Christ  Church  was  to  acquire  one 
share  of  Revolutionary  prestige  more  in 

229 


OLD   XEW  ENGLAXI)   CHURCHES 

keeping  with  its  divine  origin.  For  here 
it  was  that  on  New  Year's  Eve,  1775, 
General  Washington  held  service,  Colonel 
William  Palfrey  reading  the  prayers. 
Washington,  like  most  Southerners  of  his 
day,  was  a  good  churchman,  but  during 
the  first  months  of  his  stay  in  Cambridge 
he  had  worshipped,  partly  from  policy 
and  partly  from  necessity,  in  the  "  meet- 
ing-house "  then  under  the  care  of  Doctor 
Appleton.  In  the  middle  of  December, 
however,  Mrs.  Washington  arrived  in 
Cambridge,  and  very  soon  orders  were 
given  to  prepare  the  church  for  divine 
service,  hasty  repairs  being  made,  tradi- 
tion tells  us,  at  the  expense  (with  a  kind 
of  fine  irony)  of  Judge  Lee,  the  only  Tory 
proprietor  whose  loyalty  to  George  III. 
was  of  sufficiently  mild  a  brand  to  render 
his  continued  residence  in  Cambridge 
without  danger. 
230 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

The  courteous  white-haired  sexton,  who 
for  many  years  now  has  been  the  guardian 
of  Christ  Church,  points  out  with  pride, 
for  the  benefit  of  visitors,  the  exact  spot 
which  the  General  and  Mrs.  Washington 
hallowed  by  their  presence,  that  eventful 
Sunday  in  1775.  The  pew  which  suc- 
ceeds the  old  pew  is  opposite  the  third 
pillar  from  the  door  as  one  enters,  and  to 
it  still  clings,  of  course,  an  odour  of  sanc- 
tity. And  properly  enough,  too.  That 
American  must  indeed  be  dead  of  soul  who 
is  not  thrilled  at  the  thought  that  Washing- 
ton prayed  in  that  very  spot  for  the  liberty 
Ave  now  enjoy. 

In  a  letter  to  his  wife.  Colonel  William 
Palfrey,  the  acting  clergyman  at  that  New 
Year's  service,  thus  described  his  per- 
formance of  the  office  that  fell  to  him : 

"  What  think  you  of  my  turning  par- 
gori?    I  yesterday,  at  the  request  of  Mrs, 

231 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

\Vashington,  performed  divine  service  at 
the  church  at  Cambridge, 

"  There  was  present  the  General  and 
Lady,  Mrs.  Gates,  Mrs.  Custis,  and  a 
number  of  others,  and  they  were  pleased 
to  compliment  me  on  my  performance. 
I  made  a  form  of  prayer,  instead  of  the 
prayer  for  the  king,  which  was  much  ap- 
proved. 

"  I  gave  it  to  Mrs.  Washington  at  her 
desire,  and  did  not  keep  a  copy,  but  will 
get  one  and  send  it  to  you." 

The  prayer,  which  was  undoubtedly  pre- 
pared with  a  view  to  use  as  a  substitute 
for  the  petitions  in  behalf  of  the  king, 
incorporated  in  all  Church  of  England 
services,  was  as  follows :  "  Oh  Lord  our 
Heavenly  Father,  high  and  mighty,  King 
of  kings  and  Lord  of  lords,  who  hast 
made  of  one  blood  all  the  nations  upon 
earth,  and  whose  common  bounty  is  lib- 
232 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

erallj  bestowed  upon  thj  unworthy  crea- 
tures; most  heartily  we  beseech  Thee  to 
look  down  with  mercy  upon  his  Majesty 
George  the  Third.  Open  his  eyes  and 
enlighten  his  understanding,  that  he  may 
pursue  the  true  interest  of  the  people  over 
whom  thou  and  thy  Providence  hast 
placed  him.  Remove  far  from  him  all 
wicked,  corrupt  men  and  evil  counsellors, 
that  his  throne  may  be  established  in  jus- 
tice and  righteousness;  and  so  replenish 
him  with  the  grace  of  thy  Holy  Spirit  that 
he  may  incline  to  thy  will  and  walk  in 
thy  way. 

"  Have  pity,  O  most  merciful  Father, 
upon  the  distresses  of  the  inhabitants  of 
this  western  world.  To  that  end  we 
humbly  pray  Thee  to  bless  the  Continental 
Congress.  Preside  over  their  councils,  and 
may  they  be  led  to  such  measures  as  tend 
to  thy  glory,  to  the  advancement  of  thy 

233 


OLD  XEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

true  religion,  and  to  the  happiness  and 
prosperity  of  thy  people.  We  also  pray 
thee  to  bless  our  provincial  assemblies, 
magistrates,  and  all  in  subordinate  places 
of  power  and  trust.  Be  with  thy  servant, 
the  commander-in-chief  of  the  American 
forces.  Afford  him  thy  presence  in  all  his 
undertakings ;  strengthen  him  that  he  may 
vanquish  and  overcome  all  his  enemies; 
and  grant  that  we  may  in  due  time  be  re- 
stored to  the  enjoyment  of  those  inesti- 
mable blessings  we  have  been  deprived  of 
by  the  devices  of  cruel  and  bloodthirsty 
men,  for  the  sake  of  thy  son,  Jesus  Christ 
Our  Lord.    Amen." 

Of  other  services  which  Washington  at- 
tended in  Christ  Church,  record  is  lacking. 
There  has  always  been  a  tradition  that  he 
worshipped  there  regularly,  but  it  is  quite 
probable  that  in  tactful  concession  to  the 
views  of  the  main  body  of  th^  army,  he 
234 


ii 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

attended  instead  the  services  at  the  "  meet- 
ing-house," there  to  listen  to  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Leonard's  preaching  to  the  troops. 

Rather  curiously,  it  was  after  the  real 
storm  and  stress  period  of  Cambridge  had 
passed,  and  after  the  church  had  ceased 
to  be  a  barracks,  that  the  main  damage 
to  the  building  was  done.  It  has  been  said 
that  General  Burgoyne  occupied  "  the 
Bishop's  Palace."  This  was,  of  course, 
after  his  capitulation  on  October  17, 
1777,  at  the  time  when  the  British  and 
Hessian  troops,  forty-two  hundred  strong, 
were  assigned  to  Cambridge  as  their  prison 
ground.^  The  artillery  of  the  captured 
troops  was  parked  on  the  Common  at  this 
crisis,  in  front  of  Christ  Church,  and  the 
barracks  built  for  the  besiegers  of  Boston 
were  now  occupied  by  her  vanquished  foes. 
Naturally,  there  was  a  great  deal  of  dis- 

1  See  "Romance  of  Old  New  England  Roof  trees." 

235 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

order  among  the  demoralized  and  idle  Hes- 
sians, and,  as  a  result  of  this,  one  pecul- 
iarly unhappy  incident  occurred.  This 
was  the  shooting,  in  June,  1778,  of  Lieu- 
tenant Richard  Brown  of  the  Twenty-first 
Regiment  (one  of  the  English  prisoners), 
by  a  stupid  sentry. 

Brown  was  driving  do\\Ti  Prospect  Hill, 
Somerville,  and  had  lost  control  of  his 
horses,  when  a  raw  country  lad,  standing 
guard  at  the  foot  of  the  slope,  challenged 
him  to  halt  and  show  his  pass.  Inasmuch 
as  it  was  impossible  to  do  this,  Brown 
merely  pointed  to  his  sword  (which  he 
retained  by  the  terms  of  the  surrender  as 
one  of  Burgoyne's  officers),  to  indicate  his 
rank  and  privilege.  At  this,  the  sentry, 
whether  ignorantly  or  wilfully  will  never 
be  known,  ran  up  to  the  carriage  and  shot 
the  Englishman  through  the  head.  The 
affair  caused  great  excitement,  and  the 
236 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAOT)  CHURCHES 

unfortunate  lieutenant's  funeral,  on  June 
19tli,  was  the  one  service  ever  held  in 
Christ  Church  in  which  English  officers 
and  soldiers,  German  officers,  and  not  a 
few  Americans  prayed  to  God  together. 
Lieutenant  Brown,  according  to  a  contem- 
porary account,  was  "  entombed  in  the 
church  at  Cambridge  with  all  military 
honours,"  his  coffin  being  added,  it  is  be- 
lieved, to  the  nine  Vassal  caskets  which 
occupy  the  vault  beneath  the  church.  It 
was  on  the  occasion  of  this  funeral,  and 
because  of  the  indignation  aroused  by  the 
incident  related,  that  the  most  severe  dam- 
age that  the  building  received  during  the 
war  was  done.  Ensign  Anbury,  an  eye- 
witness to  the  affair,  tells  us  in  his  "  Trav- 
els "  : 

"  I  cannot  pass  over  the  littleness  of 
mind  and  the  pitiful  resentment  of  the 
Americans  in  a  very  trifling  circumstance 

237 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

[for]  during  the  time  the  service  was  per- 
forming over  the  body  [at  the  tomb  in  the 
cellar?]  the  Americans  seized  the  oppor- 
tunity of  the  church  being  open,  which 
had  been  shut  since  the  commencement  of 
hostilities,  to  plunder,  ransack,  and  deface 
everything  they  could  lay  their  hands  on, 
destroying  the  pulpit,  reading-desk,  and 
communion-table,  and,  ascending  the  or- 
gan loft,  destroyed  the  bellows  and  broke 
all  the  pipes  of  a  very  handsome  instru- 
ment." Thus,  in  a  burst  of  fury  which 
certainly  reflects  little  credit  upon  the  in- 
nate reverence  of  the  Cambridge  patriots, 
ended  the  Tory  term  of  Christ  Church. 

The  building  was  now  little  better  than 
a  ruin,  and  the  congregation  was  as  com- 
pletely shattered  as  the  church.  All 
through  the  eighties  the  edifice  remained 
desolate  and  neglected,  but  in  1790  it  was 
reopened  by  the  Reverend  Doctor  Parker, 
238 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

of  Trinity,  Boston,  his  sermon  (July  14th) 
being  on  the  text,  "  Now,  therefore,  ye  are 
no  more  strangers  and  foreigners,  but  fel- 
low citizens  with  the  saints  and  the  house- 
hold of  God;  and  are  built  up  upon 
the  foundations  of  the  Apostles  and  the 
Prophets,  Jesus  Christ  himself  being  the 
chief  corner-stone ;  in  whom  all  the  build- 
ing fitly  framed  together  groweth  into  a 
holy  temple  in  the  Lord."  In  the  prayer 
used  on  this  occasion  remembrance  was 
made  of  the  fact  that  he  who  was  now 
supreme  civil  authority  had  fifteen  years 
ago,  when  newly  invested  with  highest 
milita^-y  honours,  prayed  for  his  country 
in  Christ  Church. 

It  was  not,  however,  until  another  quar- 
ter-century had  elapsed  that  Christ  Church 
really  recovered  from  the  blow  of  the  Tory 
dissolution.  Then  (in  1824)  a  committee 
was  appointed  by  the  Diocese  of  Massa- 

239 


OLD  yEW  EyGLA:N^D  CHTJECHES 

chusetts  to  solicit  subscriptions  for  repair- 
ing the  building.  By  their  exertions  up- 
wards of  three  thousand  dollars  were  ob- 
tained, of  which  three  hundred  were  given 
by  Harvard  College,  many  of  the  Episcopal 
undergraduates  of  which  (then,  as  now) 
attended  service  in  the  quaint  old  edifice. 
During  the  summer  and  autumn  of  the 
following  year  the  church  was  thoroughly 
repaired,  and  a  number  of  changes  made 
in  its  interior.  Xo  long  and  prosperous 
terais  of  rectorship  are,  however,  to  be 
noted  until  the  Reverend  ISTicholas  Hop- 
pin,  D.  D.,  assumed,  in  1839,  the  charge 
of  the  parish.  Mr.  Hoppin  served  faith- 
fully and  acceptably  for  no  less  than 
thirty-five  years,  during  which  time  the 
church  was  enlarged,  and  its  work  greatly 
strengthened.  It  was  during  Mr.  Hoppin's 
time,  too,  that  the  one  hundredth  anniver- 
sary of  the  opening  of  the  church  was 
240 


OLD  NEW  EN"GLA:N'D  CHURCHES 

celebrated  with  much  ceremony.  The  day 
(October  15,  1861)  was  a  remarkably  fine 
one,  and  fifty  clergymen,  as  well  as  an 
immense  congregation,  were  present  to  lis- 
ten to  the  fine  historical  sermon  preached 
by  the  rector. 

On  that  glad  occasion  the  peal  of  the 
Harvard  Chime,  presented  to  the  church 
by  a  committee  of  University  graduates, 
first  rang  out  on  the  still  Cambridge  air. 
These  chimes  are  operated  from  the  ring- 
ing-room in  the  second  story  of  the  tower, 
where  the  old-fashioned  system  of  a  frame, 
into  which  the  ends  of  the  bell-ropes  lead, 
is  in  use.  There  are  thirteen  bells  in  the 
set,  and  each  bears  in  Latin  a  portion 
of  the  "  Gloria  in  Excelsis."  From  the 
outset  the  Chime  has  been  regarded  as  a 
common  object  of  interest  and  enjoyment 
for  the  whole  city,  and  because  of  its  in- 
timate connection  with  the  University,  it 

241 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHUKCHES 

has  been  rung,  not  alone  on  church  days, 
but  also  on  all  festivals  and  special  occa- 
sions of  the  college.  Thus  the  music  of 
Christ's  sweet-toned  bells  has  for  more 
than  forty  years  now  been  associated  in 
the  minds  of  Cambridge  students  with  all 
that  is  most  beautiful  in  the  life  of  their 
Alma  Mater,  and  through  this  medium  the 
oldest  institution  in  Cambridge  has  become 
identified  with  the  oldest  church. 


242 


A   FAMOUS    TORY   WIT    AND 
DIVINE 

rHE  Hollis  Street  Church  is  now 
the  Hollis  Street  Theatre.  But 
the  exterior  walls  of  the  building 
are  the  same  as  those  put  up  in  1810 
when  the  third  meeting-house  was  here 
erected  on  the  site  which,  since  1732,  had 
been  the  church  "  at  the  south  part  of 
Boston."  The  original  house  of  worship 
was  dedicated  by  the  Reverend  Doctor 
Sewall,  of  the  Old  South  Church,  and  the 
first  minister  settled  there  was  the  Rev- 
erend Mather  Byles,  a  Tory  wit  and 
scholar.  Doctor  Byles's  salary  began  at 
£3  10s.  a  week,  but  it  was  gradually  in- 
creased from  year  to  year  until,  in  1757, 

243 


OLD   IsTEW  E^GLA^TD   CHURCHES 

it  reached  £11  per  week.  So  for  more 
than  forty-four  years  he  served  his  people 
acceptably.  Then  the  Revolution  dawned, 
and  in  the  crisis  resulting  Doctor  Byles's 
course  was  such  as  to  bring  him  into 
marked  disfavour.  He  was  therefore  tried 
in  the  church,  the  specific  offences  in- 
stanced against  him  by  his  parishioners 
being:  "  (1)  His  associating  and  spend- 
ing a  considerable  portion  of  his  time  with 
the  officers  of  the  British  army,  having 
them  frequently  at  his  house,  and  lending 
them  his  glasses  for  the  purpose  of  view- 
ing the  works  erected  for  our  defence; 
(2)  That  he  treated  the  public  calamity 
with  lightness;  (3)  Meeting  before  and 
after  service  with  a  number  of  our  invet- 
erate enemies  at  a  certain  place  in  King 
Street  called  Tory  Hall;  (4)  That  he 
prayed  in  public  that  America  might  sub- 
mit to  grate  Britain." 
244 


THE     KKVF.REXD     MATIIKK     HYLES 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

The  Tory  doctor  was  dismissed  August 
14,  17Y6,  and  in  the  following  May  was 
denounced  at  town  meeting.  Being  there 
convicted  as  a  man  "  inimical  to  Amer- 
ica," he  was  sentenced  to  imprisonment 
with  his  family  in  a  guard-ship,  and  con- 
demned to  be  sent  in  forty  days  to  Eng- 
land. The  sentence  was  afteinvard  com- 
muted to  confinement  in  his  own  house, 
and  a  sentinel  was  placed  before  his  door. 

Very  amusing  stories  have  come  down 
to  us  of  this  imprisonment  of  Doctor 
Byles,  "  the  great  Boston  wit."  At  one 
time  during  his  imprisonment  in  his  own 
residence  at  the  corner  of  Nassau  and 
Tremont  Streets,  he  required,  we  read,  to 
have  an  errand  performed.  No  one  was 
at  home  for  the  time  being  and  so,  inter- 
viewing the  sentinel,  he  asked  permission 
to  absent  himself  for  a  little  while.  But 
this  permission  was  not  granted.     There^ 

245 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

upon  he  requested  the  sentinel  to  do  the 
errand  for  him,  offering  to  do  the  duty  of 
guard  until  he  should  return.  This  favour 
being  granted,  Doctor  Byles  shouldered  a 
musket  and  for  half  an  hour  or  more 
marched  back  and  forth  before  his  own 
door,  greatly  to  the  amusement  of  his 
neighbours.  After  a  time  the  guard  was 
withdrawn,  and  again  replaced.  Alluding 
to  this  fact.  Doctor  Byles  observed  that  he 
had  been  "  guarded,  regarded,  and  disre- 
garded." 

When  the  British  finally  left  Boston, 
and  the  people  returned  from  the  towns 
round  about  where  they  had  taken  refuge, 
they  began,  of  course,  to  put  things  to 
rights.  Then  it  was  that  the  Hollis  Street 
Society  "  prepared  to  deal  with  Doctor 
Byles,"  and,  calling  a  meeting  of  the  male 
members,  sent  for  that  clergyman.  The 
scene  was  rather  a  desolate  one.  Nothing 
246 


OLD   NEW  ENGLAI^D   CHURCHES 


was  left  in  the  church,  which  had  been 
used  as  a  barracks,  but  the  pulpit  and 
stove.  The  brethren  assembled  in  one  of 
the  galleries  and  awaited  with  some  trepi- 
dation the  doctor's  appearance. 

Soon  he  entered,  arrayed,  we  are  told, 
in  "  ample  flowing  robes  and  bands,  a 
full  bush  wig,  newly  powdered,  sur- 
mounted by  a  large  three-cornered  hat." 
With  long  strides  he  mounted  the  pulpit, 
hung  his  hat  on  a  nail,  and  took  his  seat, 
saying,  "  If  ye  have  aught  to  say,  say 
on."  Far  up  in  the  gallery  a  little  man, 
with  a  small  voice,  arose  to  prefer  charges 
against  the  doctor.  "  Louder,  louder !  " 
exclaimed  the  latter,  and  again  he  re- 
peated, "  Louder !  "  After  listening  for 
some  time  to  the  charges,  he  exclaimed, 
"False!  False!  and  the  Hollis  Street 
people  know  that  it  is  false !  "  and,  seizing 
his  hat,  he  rose  and  departed,  leaving  the 

247 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

brethren  to  settle  the  affairs  in  the  best 
way  they  could. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  Doctor  Byles 
and  his  family  remained  Tories  till  their 
dying  days,  the  gifted  minister  and  wit 
was  not  disregarded  by  all  his  patriot 
friends.  In  his  later  years  Franklin,  who 
had  been  one  of  his  youthful  companions, 
renewed  his  intimacy  with  him.  Almost 
the  latest  writing  preserved  from  the  doc- 
tor's pen  is  indeed  the  following  brief 
letter  to  the  Great  American  Philosopher : 

"  Boston,  14th  May,  1787. 
"  Sir  :  —  It  is  a  long  time  since  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  writing  to  you  by  Mrs. 
Edward  Church,  to  thank  you  for  your 
kindly  mention  of  me  in  a  letter  that  I 
find  was  transmitted  to  the  University  of 
Aberdeen  [this  institution  had,  in  1765, 
conferred  on  Doctor  Byles  the  degree  of 
248 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

D.  D.].  I  doubt  not  whether  you  ever 
received  it,  I  seize  this  opportunity  of 
employing  my  daughter  to  repeat  the 
thanks  which  (but  under  great  weakness 
by  old  age  and  a  palsy)  I  aimed  to  express 
in  that  letter.  Your  Excellency  is  now 
the  man  that  I  early  expected  to  see  you; 
I  congratulate  my  country  on  having  pro- 
duced a  Franklin,  and  can  only  add,  I 
wish  to  meet  you  where  complete  felicity 
and  we  shall  be  forever  united.  I  am,  my 
dear  and  early  friend,  your  most  affec- 
tionate and  humble  servant, 

"  M.  Byles." 

Doctor  Byles  enjoyed,  too,  the  distinc- 
tion of  a  correspondence  with  Pope,  his 
letters  to  that  celebrated  writer  evincing 
a  keen  appreciation  for  his  works.  A  very 
beautiful  copy  of  Pope's  Odyssey  came  to 
the  doctor  as  a  result  of  this  admiration. 

249 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

This  sturdy  old  Tory's  ruling  passion 
for  the  hon  mot  was  strong  even  in  death. 
It  is  related  of  him  that  just  before  he  ex- 
pired (July  5,  1788)  his  intimate  friend, 
Bishop  Bowker,  called  to  see  him ;  and  as 
he  entered  the  room  and  approached  the 
bedside  of  the  dying  man,  the  doctor  by 
lifting  his  finger  signified  that  he  wished 
him  to  bend  over  and  place  his  ear  near 
to  his  lips.  This  the  bishop  accordingly 
did.  Then  Doctor  Byles  whispered,  "  I 
have  almost  got  to  that  land  where  there 
are  no  bishops."  Llis  friend,  who  seems 
to  have  been  quite  his  match,  replied 
quickly,  "  I  hoped,  doctor,  that  you  were 
going  to  the  Shepherd  and  Bishop  of 
Souk."  The  story  seems  almost  ill-timed, 
but  it  certainly  reveals  a  serenity  that  not 
even  the  shadow  of  death  could  disturb. 

Doctor  Byles  left  a  son  and  two 
daughters.  This  son,  —  another  Tory  of 
250 


OLD  XEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

course,  —  got  into  trouble  during  the  Rev- 
olution with  his  church  also,  that  church 
being  none  other  than  the  Old  North  on 
Salem  Street,  from  which  the  lanterns 
were  hung  on  the  eve  of  the  nineteenth 
of  April.  This  second  Mather  Byles, 
graduated  at  Harvard  in  1751,  had  been 
duly  ordained  a  Congregational  clergyman 
like  his  father,  and  was  for  some  time 
pastor  of  the  church  in  New  London,  Con- 
necticut. But  in  1768  he  became  an  Epis- 
copalian, and  was  called  to  Boston,  where 
he  was  rector  of  Christ  Church  until  just 
previous  to  the  Revolution.  Thus  for  a 
term  of  years  Doctor  Mather  Byles,  Sr., 
a  Congregational  minister,  presided  over 
the  Hollis  Street  Church,  while  Doctor 
Mather  Byles,  Jr.,  his  son,  preached  the 
opposing  creed  at  the  other  end  of  the 
town. 

Doctor  Byles's  two  daughters,  Catherine 

251 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

and  Mary,  never  married,  and  they  contin- 
ued to  the  end  of  their  life  to  reside  in  the 
old  family  mansion  on  Nassau  Street,  and 
to  cherish  their  Tory  predilections.  Their 
house  was  filled  with  antique  curiosities 
and  memorials  of  bygone  days.  They  took 
a  special  delight  in  "drinking  their  tea 
off  a  table  at  which  Franklin  had  partaken 
of  the  same  beverage."  "  Blowing  their 
fire  with  a  bellows  two  hundred  years  old," 
was  another  source  of  great  satisfaction  to 
them ;  and  they  seemed  to  live  for  years 
amidst  recollections  of  the  happy  past. 
From  a  curious  old  volume,  "  Sketches  of 
History,  Life,  and  Manners  in  the  United 
States.  By  a  Traveller,"  we  get  this  en- 
tertaining description  of  a  visit  paid  in 
1823  to  the  Misses  Byles: 

"  I  sought  them  out  and  found  them 
in  an  old  decayed  wooden  house  at  the  foot 
of  a  Mall  [Common].     The  house  (which 
252 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

must  have  seen  a  century  at  least)  stood 
in  a  luxuriant  grass  plat,  with  two  beauti- 
ful horse-chestnut-trees  growing  near  the 
door :  the  whole  was  enclosed  by  a  decayed 
wooden  paling,  which  communicated  with 
tlie  street  by  a  small  gate  with  a  wooden 
latch.  Upon  opening  the  gate  I  was 
within  a  few  steps  of  the  door;  but  by 
the  looks  of  the  house,  the  old  rotten  step 
at  the  door,  the  grass  growing  through  it, 
not  a  trace  of  human  footstep  to  be  seen, 
and  the  silence  that  pervaded  the  moulder- 
ing mansion  before  me  —  I  imagined  it 
could  be  no  other  than  a  deserted  house. 
I  knocked  at  the  door,  however,  and  an 
elderly  female  opened  it  immediately;  I 
inquired  for  the  ladies  of  the  house;  she 
replied  that  she  was  one  of  them,  and  that 
her  sister  was  sick.  Upon  my  saying  some- 
thing about  my  paying  my  respects  to 
them,  she  very  coldly  invited  me  to  walk 

253 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

in.  The  house  looked  something  better 
inside.  .  .  .  Among  the  three  or  four  old 
chairs  in  the  parlour  was  one  which  ap- 
peared to  be  the  monarch  of  the  rest.  It 
was  curiously  carved,  wholly  of  wood,  with 
a  straight  high  back,  upon  which  was 
mounted  the  English  crown,  supported  by 
two  cherubim.  This  chair  of  state  is 
carefully  placed  under  the  portrait  of 
their  father.  .  .  . 

"  Miss  Byles  appeared  to  be  about 
seventy-five  years  of  age.  ...  I  drew  a 
few  sentences  from  her,  the  amount  of 
which  went  to  show  that  she  was  a  warm 
lover  of  the  British  crown  and  government, 
and  that  she  despised  the  country  she  was 
in.  She  said  the  Americans  had  her 
father,  herself,  and  her  sister  up  in  the 
time  of  the  Revolutionary  War,  treated 
them  ill,  imprisoned  her  father,  and  sus- 
pended him  from  preaching;  came  very 
254 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAJ^D   CHURCHES 

near  sending  the  whole  of  them  off  to 
England  just  because  her  father  prayed 
for  the  king!  .  .  ."  On  the  accession  to 
the  throne  of  William  IV.,  one  of  the 
sisters,  who  had  known  the  sailor  king, 
during  the  Revolution,  addressed  to  him 
a  congratulatory  epistle,  assuring  him  that 
the  "  family  of  Doctor  Byles  never  had 
renounced  and  never  would  renounce  their 
allegiance  to  the  British  crown."  The 
elder  sister  died  in  1835,  the  younger, 
Mary,  in  1837.  It  had  long  been  one 
of  the  comforts  of  these  forlorn  spinsters 
that  not  a  creature  in  the  States  would 
be  any  better  off  for  what  they  left  behind 
them.  This  indeed  proved  to  be  the  case, 
for  their  modest  little  estate  passed,  as 
they  had  carefully  arranged  it  should,  into 
the  possession  of  relations  in  the  Prov- 
inces. The  history  of  Boston,  it  seems  to 
me,  affords  few  more  pathetic  and  pictur- 

255 


OLD  KEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

esqiie  bits  than  the  little  glimpse  given  us 
by  the  "  Traveller  "  above  quoted,  of  these 
prim  old  ladies,  cultured  and  polished, 
though  somewhat  eccentric,  cherishing  for 
sixty  years  after  the  public  denunciation 
of  their  father  as  a  Tory  the  political 
prejudices  for  which  he  had  suffered. 

One  other  minister  of  the  Hollis  Street 
Church,  the  Reverend  John  Pierpont,  poet, 
Abolitionist,  and  divine,  —  the  grand- 
father of  -John  Pierpont  Morgan,  —  is 
conspicuous  in  the  history  of  the  parish 
as  a  pastor  possessed  of  opinions  he  re- 
fused to  abandon.  Mr.  Pierpont  came  to 
the  church  in  1818,  and  for  fifteen  years 
was  a  very  popular  pastor.  Then  he,  too, 
began  to  develop  views  —  anti-slavery 
ones  —  to  which  a  portion  of  his  parish 
was  bitterly  opposed.  He  was  invited 
to  resign,  but  declined.  A  sharp  corre- 
spondence between  him  and  the  standing 
256 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

committee  of  the  church  ensued,  the  matter 
being  finally  referred  to  an  ecclesiastical 
council,  which,  after  hearing  the  charges 
against  Mr.  Pierpont,  dismissed  them  and 
exonerated  him.  Meanwhile,  his  salary 
was  withheld,  and  he  sued  the  society  :£or 
it.  It  was  only  after  he  had  obtained  judg- 
ment in  the  Supreme  Court  and  secured 
payment  of  his  claim  that  he  voluntarily 
resigned,  and  the  warfare  ended.  This 
was  in  1845.  Until  1859  Mr.  Pierpont 
was  engaged  in  the  regular  ministry  over 
various  Unitarian  cluirches,  but  when  the 
war  broke  out  in  1861,  he  became  chaplain 
to  the  Massachusetts  regiment.  His  in- 
creasing infirmities  compelled  him  to  re- 
tire, however,  and  the  rest  of  his  life  was 
employed  in  the  Treasury  Department  at 
Washington,  arranging  its  decisions,  a 
work  for  which  he  was  well  fitted,  because 
he  had  been  bred  a  barrister  and  had  aban- 

257 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

doned  the  profession  only  when  compelled 
to  the  step  by  scruples  of  conscience.  Mr. 
Pierpont's  hymns  combine  in  a  remarkable 
way  terseness  and  tenderness.  One  of 
these,  written  for  the  opening  of  the  In- 
dependent Congregational  Church,  in  Bar- 
ton Square,  Salem,  Massachusetts,  Decem- 
ber 7,  1824,  is  very  well  known  both  in 
this  country  and  England: 

"  O  Thou,  to  whom  in  ancient  time 

The  lyre  of  Hebrew  bards  was  strung ; 
Whom  kings  adored  in  songs  sublime, 

And  prophets  praised  with  glowing  tongue ; 

"  Not  now  on  Zion's  height  alone, 

Thy  favoured  worshippers  may  dwell, 
Nor  where  at  sultry  noon  Thy  Son 
Sat  weary,  by  the  patriarch's  well : 

"  From  every  place  below  the  skies, 

The  grateful  song,  the  fervent  prayer, 
The  incense  of  the  heart,  may  rise 
To  heaven,  and  find  acceptance  there. 
258 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAN"D  CHURCHES 

"  To  Thee  shall  age  with  snowy  hair, 

And  strength  and  beauty,  bend  the  knee  ; 
And  childhood  lisp  with  reverent  air. 
Its  praises  and  its  prayers  to  Thee. 

"  O  Thou,  to  whom,  in  ancient  time, 

The  lyre  of  prophet-bards  was  strung,  — 
To  Thee,  at  last,  in  every  clime, 

Shall  temples  rise  and  praise  be  sung." 


259 


WHEN    A    EKEXCH    EXILE    WAS 
BOSTON'S    BISHOP 

JUST  one  hundred  years  ago  (Sep- 
tember 29,  1803)  the  first  Cath- 
olic temple  in  the  city  of  Boston 
was  erected  on  Eranklin  Street,  and  five 
years  later,  in  1808,  St.  Patrick's  Church, 
tlie  first  Catholic  meeting-house  in  the 
State  of  Maine,  was  built  at  Damaris- 
cotta  Mills.  The  fact  that  both  these  edi- 
fices came  into  being  through  the  efforts 
of  one  man,  a  French  exile,  who  was  after- 
wards a  prince  of  the  Church,  renders  their 
history  of  decided  interest.  The  country 
church,  much  of  the  material  for  which 
was  brought  from  Europe,  is  still  standing 
260 


OLD  NEW  EIs^GLAND   CHURCHES 


midway  between  Damariscotta  Mills  and 
the  village.  Originally  the  pews  here  were 
only  rough  benches  hewn  from  the  trees 
of  the  forest,  but  now  the  furnishings  are 
modern.  As  for  the  Cathedral  of  the  Holy 
Cross,  the  modern  successor,  though  on  a 
different  site,  of  the  first  Catholic  church 
in  Boston,  —  it  covers  more  than  an  acre 
of  ground  and  is  generally  called  one  of 
the  most  imposing  church  buildings  in 
"New  England.  Only  the  personality  of 
Bishop  Cheverus  and  the  faith  of  the 
Church  he  so  loved  connect  these  two 
widely  dissimilar  structures. 

The  career  of  John  Louis  Anne  Magda- 
len Lefebvre  de  Cheverus,  —  to  give  his 
name  in  full,  —  born  at  Mayenne,  France, 
January  28,  1768,  is  full  to  the  brim  of 
colour  and  interest.  Bred  up  in  a  very 
pious  household  and  early  sent  to  the  col- 
lege of  his  native  place,  he  received,  when 

261 


OLD  NEW  EN^GLAXD  CHURCHES 

only  twelve,  the  tonsure  at  Mayenne,  and 
began  his  studies  for  the  priesthood. 
Meanwhile  the  troubles  of  the  French 
Revolution  were  beginning  to  cast  their 
shadow  before.  When  M,  de  Cheverus  was 
ordained,  December  8,  1790,  —  in  the 
tw^enty-third  year  of  his  age,  —  it  was  at 
great  personal  risk.  For  to  accept  holy 
orders  at  that  time  was  to  court  persecu- 
tion, confiscation,  imprisonment,  and  mar- 
tyrdom from  the  fierce  tyrants  rising  up 
in  France  to  destroy  both  church  and 
state,  and  deluge  the  fairest  of  lands  in  the 
blood  of  its  noblest  citizens.  Undaunted, 
however,  by  the  calamities  that  were 
hastening  upon  his  country  and  his  relig- 
ion, the  young  priest  repaired  at  once, 
after  taking  orders,  to  his  native  city,  and 
assumed  the  public  exercise  of  the  holy 
ministry  as  assistant  to  his  uncle,  the  ven- 
erable Cure  de  Cheverus.  At  the  same 
262 


£ 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

time  he  received  from  the  Bishop  of  Mans 
the  honour  of  being  a  canon  in  his  cathe- 
dral. Soon,  however,  he  was  called  upon 
to  take  the  oath  of  the  Revolution,  which, 
he  firmly  resisted,  and,  resigning  his 
place,  exercised  the  holy  ministry  in 
private.  Thus  his  father's  house  became 
at  once  his  prison  and  his  chapel.  But 
he  was  not  destined  to  remain  long  in  the 
little  town  he  called  home,  for,  making  his 
escape  in  the  June  of  1792,  he  proceeded 
to  Paris.  Naturally,  the  lynx-eyed  mem- 
bers of  the  Committee  of  Vigilance  speed- 
ily found  him  out  in  that  troubled  centre, 
and  made  his  life  a  far  from  comfortable 
one. 

Then  was  passed  the  resolution  of  the 
twenty-sixth  of  August,  which  condemned 
to  banishment  those  priests  who  had  not 
taken  the  constitutional  oath.  This  was 
M.  de  Cheverus's  opportunity.     The  mas- 

263 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

sacres  of  the  second  and  third  of  Septem- 
ber had  already  taken  place,  and  he  had 
gone  free  only  by  being  concealed  for  sev- 
eral days  in  his  own  chamber.  The  decree 
of  banishment  seemed  to  him,  therefore, 
almost  a  providential  means  of  escape,  and, 
disguising  himself,  he  sailed  as  speedily 
as  possible  for  England,  where,  though  a 
stranger  in  a  strange  land,  he  soon  found 
friends  and  a  means  of  support  as  teacher 
of  French  and  mathematics  in  a  boarding- 
school.  Here,  through  the  necessary  inter- 
course with  his  pupils,  he  acquired  a  good 
knowledge  of  English,  and  was  thus  quite 
ready  to  accept  the  invitation  which  came 
to  him  in  1795,  to  share  with  the  Abbe 
Matignon,  then  officiating  at  Boston, 
labour  in  that  new  and  fruitful  vineyard. 
To  M.  de  Cheverus  this  call  to  a  foreign 
field,  which  embraced  all  New  England 
and  the  Indian  tribes  of  Penobscot  and 
264 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

Passamaquoddy,  offered  a  glorious  oppor- 
tunity to  do  the  work  he  so  loved.  He 
therefore  made  over  his  patrimony  to  his 
brothers  and  sisters  in  France,  and  sailed 
at  once  for  the  new  world.  "  On  the 
third  of  April,  1Y96,"  says  the  chronicler, 
"  he  arrived  safely  at  Boston,  where  he 
was  received  by  M.  Matignon  as  an  angel 
sent  from  heaven  to  his  aid." 

Naturally  the  Boston  of  that  day  was 
inclined  to  be  none  too  cordial  to  these 
exiled  French  priests.  The  English  colo- 
nists had  brought  with  them  to  the  new 
country  all  the  religious  prejudices  of 
their  native  land,  and  Massachusetts  had 
long  been  filled  with  men  of  a  great  va- 
riety of  religious  sects  which,  though  in 
doctrine  differing  widely  from  each  other, 
were  united  on  one  point,  hatred  of  all 
things  Catholic.  Never  were  such  minis- 
ters   weary    of    declaiming    against    the 

265 


OLD  XEW  ENGLAXD  CHURCHES 


Church  of  Rome,  v/hich  they  represented 
as  an  impure  assemblage  of  idolaters,  and 
condemned  as  the  new  Babylon  in  the 
Apocalypse. 

To  found  a  Catholic  church  in  a  country 
where  such  a  state  of  feeling  existed 
seemed  almost  a  hopeless  enterprise.  But 
M.  Matignon  and  M.  Cheverus  happily  hit 
upon  the  one  and  only  way  of  gaining 
ground,  —  that  of  exhibiting  lives  so  gen- 
uinely Christlike  that  men  must  perforce 
honour  the  religion  they  ser%"ed.  "  A  new 
and  touching  sight  was  then  witnessed  in 
Boston,"  we  read ;  "  two  men,  examples 
of  every  virtue,  living  together  as  brothers, 
without  distinction  of  property,  with  no 
difference  of  purpose  or  of  will;  always 
ready  to  yield  to  each  other,  to  anticipate 
each  other  in  rendering  most  polite  and 
delicate  attentions;  possessing  in  truth 
but  one  heart  and  one  soul ;  filled  with  the 
266 


OLD   I^^EW  E^^GLA^D   CHURCHES 

same  desire,  that  of  doing  good ;  the  same 
inclinations,  those  which  pointed  to  vir- 
tue; and  the  same  love  of  whatever  is 
good,  upright,  and  charitable."  The  Bos- 
ton MontJily  Magazine,  in  its  issue  for 
June,  1825,  said,  in  speaking  of  them: 
"  Those  who  witness  the  manner  in  which 
Abbe  Matignon  and  Abbe  Cheverus  live, 
will  never  forget  the  refinement  and  ele- 
vation of  tbeir  friendship;  it  surpasses 
those  attachments  which  delight  us  in  clas- 
sical story,  and  equals  the  lovely  union  of 
the  son  of  Saul  and  the  minstrel  of  Israel." 
One  story  will  illustrate  the  effect  of 
such  living.  After  M.  Cheverus  had  been 
in  Boston  for  a  year,  a  Protestant  came  to 
him  and  said,  very  frankly :  "  Sir,  I  have 
studied  you  closely  for  a  whole  year;  I 
have  watched  all  your  steps  and  observed 
all  your  actions;  I  did  not  believe  that 
a  minister  of  your  religion  could  be  a  good 

267 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

man.  I  come  to  make  you  the  reparation 
which  honour  demands.  I  declare  to  you, 
that  I  esteem  and  venerate  you,  as  the  most 
virtuous  man  that  I  have  ever  known." 

The  universal  confidence  which  M. 
Cheverus  had  inspired  soon  brought  him 
into  new  and  inconceivably  multiplied  re- 
lations. Protestant  ladies  from  the  highest 
ranks  of  society  came  to  open  their  hearts 
to  him  and  ask  his  advice.  One  of  these 
having  said  to  him  one  day  that  it  was 
the  doctrine  of  confession  which  more 
than  anything  else  would  to  her  prove  an 
insuperable  obstacle  to  the  acceptance  of 
the  Catholic  religion,  M.  Cheverus  replied, 
with  his  delightful  smile :  "  Madam,  you 
really  have  not  so  great  a  repugnance  to 
confession  as  you  think;  on  the  contrary, 
you  seem  to  have  experienced  its  necessity 
and  its  value,  since,  for  a  long  time,  you 
have  confessed  to  me  without  knowing  it. 
268 


OLD   NEW  EI^GLAND   CHURCHES 

Confession  is  nothing  more  than  just  such 
disclosures  of  the  troubles  of  conscience 
as  you  have  been  pleased  to  make  to  me 
in  order  to  receive  my  advice." 

This  remarkable  visitor  from  overseas 
was  early  able  to  perceive  that  if  the  re- 
ligion he  represented  were  to  obtain  in 
Boston  the  respect  he  believed  should  be 
accorded  it,  the  Catholic  clergy,  besides 
living  Apostolic  lives,  must  be  as  well 
versed  in  what  the  world  called  learning 
as  in  sacred  knowledge.  For  himself, 
therefore,  he  zealously  pursued  those 
studies  ever  held  in  high  honour  in  Boston. 
He  made  himself  master  of  the  arrange- 
ment, construction,  and  etymology  of  the 
English  language,  he  read  all  the  most 
distinguished  works  that  language  has  pro- 
duced, and  he  further  kept  himself  au 
courant  with  the  modern  literatures  of 
other  lands.    An  attentive  and  discriminat- 

269 


OLD  NEW   ENGLAIs^D  CHUECHES 

ing  observer  of  society,  he  had  been  quick 
to  remark  the  high  estimation  in  which 
human  learning  and  those  who  possessed  it 
were  held  in  the  city  of  his  adoption,  and 
the  general  taste  for  literary  acquirements 
even  among  women.  Accordingly,  he  so 
cultivated  himself  that  the  extent  and 
variety  of  his  information  soon  conne<3ted 
him  with  all  the  learned  men  of  Boston, 
the  literary  societies  of  the  city  sought 
him  as  a  member,  and  it  is  very  interesting 
to  learn  that  he  was  a  powerful  instrument, 
with  the  other  leading  Bostonians  of  the 
day,  in  founding  the  Boston  Athenaeum, 
to  which  he  even  gave  many  books  from 
his  ovm  library. 

The  account  given  by  his  biographer, 
J.  Huen-Dubourg,  —  from  whose  enthu- 
siastic "  Life "  most  of  our  facts  are 
drawn,  —  of  the  good  bishop's  mis- 
sionary journeys  among  the  Indians  in  the 
270 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

Penobscot  and  Passamaquoddy  regions,  is 
full  of  interest  and  colour.  M.  Cheverus 
found  these  people,  we  learn,  almost 
wholly  admirable.  In  one  place  they  had 
kept  intact  for  fifty  years  the  faith  de- 
livered to  them  by  the  Jesuits  who  first 
brought  Christianity  to  their  section.  M. 
Cheverus  discovered  these  natives  by 
chance  one  Sunday  morning  singing  the 
well-known  chant  associated  with  the  royal 
mass  of  Dumont,  and  at  the  sight  of  the 
black  gown  all  the  assemblage  uttered 
cries  of  joy  and  delight,  ran  to  meet  him, 
called  him  father,  and  placed  him  on  a 
bearskin,  their  seat  of  honour.  Soon  he 
learned  the  language  of  the  tribe,  and 
became  their  highly  esteemed  spiritual 
leader.  Thus  it  was  that  he  built  the 
church  between  Newcastle  and  Damaris- 
cotta  to  which  reference  has  already  been 
made. 

271 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

One  very  remarkable  anecdote  of  these 
Indian  converts  has  come  down  to  us. 
Soon  after  the  death  of  Louis  XVI.  —  who 
was  led  to  the  scaffold  by  his  own  sub- 
jects, and  in  the  presence  of  sixty  thousand 
of  them  sacrificed  to  the  revolutionary 
frenzy  —  the  news  of  the  sad  affair  was 
brought  to  the  Indians  by  some  English 
travellers.  The  red  men  could  not  credit 
the  story.  The  French  missionaries  who 
had  preached  to  them,  and  M.  Cheverus, 
himself,  whom  they  so  respected,  had  rep- 
resented to  them  that  France  contained  a 
people  honourable  and  generous,  an  idea 
not  to  be  reconciled  in  their  minds  with  the 
extraordinary  tale  of  the  English  travel- 
lers. One  of  the  native  chiefs,  therefore, 
sought  the  truth  from  their  spiritual  head : 
"  Father,"  he  began,  "  we  know  you  do  not 
lie;  tell  us,  then,  how  this  is.  The  Eng- 
lish say  that  the  French  have  put  their 
272 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

king  to  death ;  this  is  impossible ;  it  must 
be  to  make  us  hate  the  French  that  they 
broach  this  falsehood." 

M.  Chevenis,  greatly  embarrassed  how 
to  answer  this  question,  tried  to  explain 
that  it  was  not  the  French  nation,  but 
rather  some  mad  men  who  had  temporarily 
gotten  the  upper  hand,  who  put  the  king 
to  death,  adding  that  all  France  disowned 
the  Revolutionists,  and  regarded  their 
crime  with  the  deep  horror  and  execration 
that  it  deserved.  Still  the  Indians  were 
unappeased.  "  Ah,  my  father,"  replied 
the  chief,  much  moved,  "  but  I  no  longer 
love  the  French  since  this  is  true.  It  was 
not  enough  to  disclaim  this  crime;  they 
ought  to  have  thrown  themselves  between 
the  king  and  his  assassins  and  have  died 
rather  than  suffered  his  person  to  be 
touched.  Why,  father,"  he  added,  "  it  is 
as  if  one  should  come  to  kill  you  while 

273 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

among  us  and  we  should  allow  you  to  be 
killed.  Should  we  not  then  be  guilty  ? 
We  are  better  than  the  French ;  for  we 
would  all  be  killed  to  save  you." 

To  the  very  end  of  his  stay  in  Boston 
M.  Cheverus,  both  as  priest  and  bishop, 
\\as  accorded  the  most  remarkable  honours. 
At  the  dinners  to  which  he  was  invited, 
and  where  sometimes  thirty  ministers  of 
various  sects  would  be  present,  he  was 
always  asked  to  say  the  blessing,  which  he 
did,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross  and  pro- 
nouncing the  customary  prayers  of  the 
Catholic  Church.  When  President  John 
Adams  visited  Boston  and  was  tendered  a 
magnificent  banquet  by  the  city,  M.  Che- 
verus was  placed  at  one  side  of  the  dis- 
tinguished guest.  The  President  was 
greatly  impressed  by  this  mark  of  respect 
paid  to  a  Catholic  priest  in  a  city  where, 
only  a  few  years  before,  all  of  the  hated 
274 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

belief  had  been  treated  with  scorn.  He 
remarked,  therefore,  to  M.  Cheveriis  that 
he  was  as  astonished  to  see  him,  a  Cath- 
olic priest,  there  occupying  the  place  of 
honour  on  his  right,  as  to  reflect  that  he 
himself  was  being  honoured  in  Boston  as 
President  of  the  United  States.  The  first 
subscriber  to  the  Catholic  church  which 
M.  Cheverus  soon  built  on  Franklin  Street, 
Boston,  opposite  old  Theatre  Alley,  it  is 
interesting  to  note,  was  President  Adams. 
With  this  name  at  the  head  of  the  list, 
subscriptions  naturally  came  in  very  read- 
ily, and  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  September, 
1803,  the  building  was  dedicated  by 
Bishop  Carroll,  of  Baltimore,  under  the 
name  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Cross. 

On  November  1,  1810,  the  abbe  was 
raised  to  the  dignity  of  a  bishop  in  the 
cathedral  at  Baltimore  by  Archbishop  Car- 
roll.   But  this  increase  of  power  made  no 

275 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

difference  whatever  in  the  style  of  the 
good  man's  life.  It  is  said  that  he  even 
continued  to  split  his  fire-wood  himself. 
And,  as  before,  his  ministrations  to  his 
beloved  Indians  went  on.  Only  with 
difficulty,  however,  was  he  able  to  remain 
thus  humbly  in  the  New  England  of  his 
adoption.  When  Archbishop  Carroll  died 
in  1815,  great  pressure  was  brought  to 
bear  upon  Bishop  Cheverus  to  induce  him 
to  take  the  higher  office.  He  replied,  how- 
ever, that  the  church  at  Boston  needed  him 
most,  which  was  indeed  the  truth,  for  after 
the  death  of  his  good  old  friend,  Abbe 
Matignon,  in  1818,  the  place  he  had  to 
fill  was  bigger  than  ever. 

But  the  happy  relation  between  Boston 
and  Bishop  Cheverus  could  not  go  on  in- 
definitely. His  health  had  become  sadly 
impaired  by  his  rigorous  life  and  the 
severe  New  England  wintei-s,  a  fact  which 
276 


OLD  NEW  engla:n'd  churches 

all  his  friends  observed  with  great  sorrow 
and  which  caused  one  of  them  —  a  French 
ambassador  to  the  United  States  just  re- 
turning to  his  own  country  —  to  apprise 
Louis  XVIII.  of  Bishop  Cheverus's  great 
worth,  and  to  ask  that  monarch  to  recall 
the  exile  to  his  native  See  of  Montauban. 
This  was  accordingly  done,  —  to  the  great 
distress  of  the  Bishop  of  Boston.  With 
what  grace  he  could,  he  declined  the  king's 
kind  offer,  and  there  went  to  Paris  with 
his  letter  a  petition  in  which  more  than 
two  hundred  Protestants,  as  well  as  the 
body  of  Catholics  in  Boston,  begged  that 
their  bishop  be  permitted  to  remain  with 
them.  "  If  the  removal  can  be  referred 
to  the  principle  of  usefulness,"  they  wrote, 
"  we  may  safely  assume  that  in  no  place 
nor  under  any  circumstances  can  Bishop 
Cheverus  be  situated  where  his  influence, 

277 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

whether  spiritual,  moral,  or  social,  can  be 
so  extensive  as  where  he  now  is." 

All  this,  however,  was  of  non-avail.  By 
return  mail  the  king  commanded  Bishop 
Cheverus  to  return  to  France  and  there 
take  charge  of  the  Diocese  of  Montauban. 
Evasion  was  no  longer  possible.  To  leave 
Boston  was  to  the  good  bishop  like  partial 
death,  but  the  physicians  had  just  de- 
clared that  his  health  could  not  endure 
another  winter  in  this  severe  climate,  so 
the  recall  was  perhaps  providential  after 
all.  The  bishop  himself  regarded  the  day 
of  his  departure  as  the  day  of  his  death. 
Before  it  arrived,  therefore,  he  wished, 
according  to  his  own  expression,  "  to  exe- 
cute his  will." 

The  church,  the  episcopal  residence, 
and  the  convent  which  he  had  built,  he  be- 
queathed, therefore,  to  the  diocese.  All  the 
rest  of  his  possessions  he  distributed 
278 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

among  his  ecclesiastics,  his  friends,  and 
the  poor.  As  he  had  come  to  Boston  a 
poor  man,  he  chose  to  depart  poor,  with  no 
other  wealth  than  the  same  trunk  which 
he  had  brought  with  him  twenty-seven 
years  before.  The  universal  regret  ex- 
pressed at  his  departure  is  indicated  by 
this  quotation  from  the  Boston  Commer- 
cial Gazette  [Protestant]  of  September 
22,  1823:  "  This  worthy  dignitary  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church  has  been  with  us 
nearly  thirty  years,  and  during  this  period 
he  has  enjoyed  the  confidence  and  respect 
of  all  classes  of  people.  The  amenity  of 
his  manners  as  a  gentleman,  his  accom- 
plishments as  a  scholar,  his  tolerant  dis- 
position as  a  religious  teacher,  and  his  pure 
and  apostolic  life,  have  been  our  theme  of 
praise  ever  since  we  have  known  him. 
We  regret  his  departure  as  a  public  loss." 
This  description  of  Bishop  Cheverus  as 

279 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

General  Oliver  remembered  him  in  Boston 
seems  very  happy :  "  The  last  time  I  saw 
him  was  as  he  passed  up  Franklin  Street 
clad  in  a  black  suit,  with  buckled  shoes, 
stockings,  small  clothes,  long  vest  and  full 
coat  of  the  fashion  of  the  day,  all  of  black, 
his  face  beaming  with  thoughtful  kind- 
ness, and  his  whole  bearing  that  of  a  dig- 
nified and  saintly  minister  of  good."  To 
this  may  well  be  added  a  few  sentences 
written  by  Doctor  Channing :  "  We  have 
seen  [in  the  metropolis  of  New  England] 
a  sublime  example  of  Christian  virtue  in 
a  Catholic  bishop.  We  have  observed  this 
man  declining  in  great  degree  the  society 
of  the  cultivated  and  refined  that  he  might 
be  the  friend  of  the  ignorant  and  friend- 
less; leaving  the  circles  of  polished  life^ 
which  he  would  have  graced,  for  the  mean- 
est hovels ;  bearing  with  a  father's  sympa- 
thy the  burdens  and  sorrows  of  his  large 
280 


"l^ 


BISHOP    CHKVERUS 


er 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

spiritual  family;  charging  himself  alike 
with  their  temporal  and  spiritual  concerns ; 
and  L  ver  discovering,  by  the  faintest  in- 
dication, that  he  felt  his  fine  mind  de- 
graded by  his  seemingly  humble  office. 
This  good  man,  bent  on  his  errands  of 
mercy,  was  seen  in  our  streets  under  the 
most  burning  sun  of  smnmer  and  the 
fiercest  storms  of  winter,  as  if  armed 
against  the  elements  by  the  power  of  char- 
ity. He  has  left  us;  but  not  to  be  for- 
gotten." 

The  bishop  embarked  from  New  York, 
October  1,  1823,  and  in  his  native  land 
was  received  with  all  possible  honour  and 
joy.  Through  the  trying  Revolution  of 
1830  he  bore  himself  with  such  dignity 
as  not  to  forfeit  the  respect  even  of  those 
who  differed  from  him,  and  soon  after- 
wards he  was  elevated,  upon  the  suggestion 
of  the  king,  to  a  place  in  the  College  of 

281 


OLD  XEW  ENGLAXD  CHURCHES 

Cardinals.  He  accordingly  received  the 
red  hat  February  1,  183G.  In  this  exalted 
position  he  lived  only  a  short  four  months, 
for  on  Sunday,  July  7,  1836,  after  oflBciat- 
ing  at  several  churches  of  his  episcopal 
city,  he  sank  down  in  the  evening  with 
utter  prostration  from  an  attack  which 
was  the  beginning  of  his  short  last  illness. 
So  it  is  as  the  Bishop  of  Boston  rather 
than  as  a  Prince  of  the  Church  that  his- 
tory to-day  remembers  him.  Plenty  of 
prelates  have  been  imposing  cardinals,  but 
New  England  has  had  only  one  Bishop 
Chevenis. 


I 

a 

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L 

WtrL.i 

1^     •■■^^      :'C,-^f^"%^ 

?" 

■^n 

■.:V'. 

'•  rcr 

THE    LOST    PRINCE    AT 
LONGMEADOW 

rHE  first  meeting-house  to  be  built 
at  Longineadow,  a  beautiful  old 
town  on  the  Connecticut  River, 
not  far  from  Springfield,  Massachusetts, 
was  erected  in  1714,  and  that  same  year 
the  Reverend  Stephen  Williams,  who  had 
been  taken  captive  with  his  father's  family 
in  the  sack  of  Deerfield,^  was  ordained 
minister  of  the  parish.  For  sixty  years 
he  served  the  community  here,  his  round 
of  parish  duties  being  interrupted  only 
by  work  as  chaplain  in  the  Louisburg 
expedition  of  1745,  and  on  other  occasions, 

1  See  "  Romance  of  Old  New  England  Rooftrees." 

283 


OLD  NEW  EIs^GLAND   CHURCHES 

and  by  his  missionary  interests  in  the 
Indians.  This  last  concern  of  his  had 
arisen  very  largely  from  his  solicitude  for 
the  children  of  his  sister  Eunice,  who,  it 
will  be  remembered,  had  steadily  refused 
to  return  with  her  family  to  Xew  England 
and  to  the  faith  of  her  fathers,  preferring 
the  Roman  Catholic  religion  and  an  In- 
dian chief.  To  Stephen  Williams,  as  to 
all  the  rest  of  the  family,  this  apostasy  on 
Eunice's  part  was  a  deep  and  abiding 
sorrow. 

So  it  was,  perhaps,  that  he  might  com- 
pensate in  a  measure  for  his  sister's 
"  error "  that  the  minister  of  Long- 
meadow  laboured  so  zealously  to  cultivate 
the  virtues  of  Protestant  Christianity 
in  the  little  town  to  which  he  had  been 
called.  In  June,  1767,  the  "  old  church 
on  the  green  "  of  our  picture  was  begun 
by  him,  and  the  work  of  building  the 
284 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

same  was  steadily  carried  on  under  his 
superintendence  until,  in  April,  1769,  this 
meeting-house  was  dedicated.  Then  Ste- 
phen Williams  was  gathered  to  his 
fathers,  being  buried  in  the  summer 
of  1772  from  the  church  he  had  struggled 
to  achieve.  His  chosen  successor  was  the 
Reverend  Richard  S.  Storrs,  Doctor  Will- 
iams's grandnephcAV.  And  during  Doctor 
Storrs's  ministry  it  was  that  quite  another 
Williams  came  to  Longmeadow,  and,  by 
his  connection  with  the  town  and  its  meet-, 
ing-house,  furnished  an  excuse  for  the 
introduction  here  of  a  Longmeadow 
chapter.  For  the  romance  of  the  Reverend 
Eleazer  Williams,  believed  by  many  to  be 
Louis  XVII.  of  France,  is  far  and  away 
the  strangest  and  most  fascinating  story 
in  all  New  England  history. 

If  you   search  the   Longmeadow  town 
records    you    will    find    repeatedly    men- 

285 


OLD  XEW  ekgla:n^d  chtjeches 

tioned  there  the  name  of  Deacon  Xathan- 
iel  Ely,  who  figures  in  the  local  history  as 
agent  in  the  "  Important  Business "  of 
making  Longmeadow  "  the  oldest  child 
of  the  state."  [The  precinct  was  the  first 
to  be  incorporated  as  a  town  after  the  sign- 
ing of  the  Treaty  of  Peace,  September  3, 
1783.]  Deacon  Ely  had  married  the  grand- 
niece  of  Eunice  Williams,  and  he  was  a 
worthy  and  intelligent,  though  uneducated, 
man.  Until  he  was  thirty  years  of  age 
he  had  worked  on  his  farm  and  enjoyed 
uninterrupted  health.  Then  his  whole 
family  was  suddenly  attacked  with  sick- 
ness, and  his  mother  and  three  children 
swept  at  once  to  the  grave.  He  likewise 
was  very  ill  at  tliis  time,  and  he  vowed 
that  if  he  recovered,  "  his  future  life, 
health,  property,  and  evervtliing  dear  on 
earth  should  be  consecrated  to  God."  For 
this  reason,  as  well  as  because  he  was 
286 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

greatly  interested  in  the  conversion  of  the 
Indians,  he  early  offered  to  bring  up  the 
children  of  his  squaw  kinswoman.  Always, 
however,  his  offers  had  been  refused.  Llis 
surprise  was  therefore  quite  as  great  as 
his  delight  when,  in  1800,  Thomas  Will- 
iams, Eunice's  grandson,  brought  to  him 
his  two  boys,  Eleazer  and  John,  to  be 
educated. 

It  has  come  down  to  us  in  local  tra- 
dition that  from  the  first  the  Longmeadow 
folk  noted  the  curious  difference  both  in 
appearance  and  in  mental  aptitude  between 
these  lads.  John,  the  younger,  only  seven, 
was  every  whit  an  Indian.  He  stayed 
in  Longmeadow  a  few  years,  and  then 
went  back  to  his  own  people  scarcely 
changed  at  all  by  his  contact  with  civiliza- 
tion. Eleazer,  however,  exhibited  no 
Indian  characteristics.  Neither  in  form, 
feature,  nor  bearing,  was  he  in  the  least 

287 


OLD  KEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

a  red  man.  He  was  eager  for  study,  and 
by  1810,  in  spite  of  repeated  illnesses,  had 
read  six  books  of  the  ^Eneid,  several  ora- 
tions of  Cicero,  was  going  through  the  T^ew 
Testament  in  Greek,  and  was  anxious  to 
begin  Hebrew.  This  precocity  may  be 
held  to  indicate  previous  culture.  Indeed, 
Mr.  Ely,  as  well  as  others  in  the  village, 
seems  to  have  been  early  informed  that 
Eleazer  was  an  adopted  and  not  a  real 
son  of  his  Indian  parents.  People  gener- 
ally believed  the  boy  to  be  the  son  of  some 
French  Canadian  family  of  standing.  Al- 
ways the  deacon  used  to  say,  however,  that 
Eleazer  Williams  was  born  to  be  a  great 
man,  and  that  he  intended  to  give  him  an 
education  to  prepare  him  for  his  rightful 
station. 

It    was    in    1800,   as    we    have    said, 
that    Eleazer  "Williams  arrived  at  Long- 
meadow;    in  1803  he  began  to  follow  the 
288 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

example  of  Deacon  Ely  and  to  keep  a 
journal.  This  practice  he  continued  with 
occasional  short  interruptions  for  the  rest 
of  his  life,  and  from  the  resulting  journal 
it  is  that  we  get  the  most  interesting  light 
obtainable  upon  the  development  of  his 
character.  This  record  shows  that  from 
the  outset  civilized  life  was  natural  to 
him.  There  is  every  token  that  education 
came  to  him  as  a  recovery. 

The  religious  strain  in  the  lad  was, 
however,  marked  from  the  first;  as  early 
as  the  year  1802  he  was  greatly  affected  by 
a  sermon  preached  in  the  old  meeting- 
house by  Mr.  Storrs  in  the  course  of  a 
great  revival.  His  conversion  at  this  time 
was  hailed  by  his  friends  with  great  re- 
joicing, as  the  object  of  his  education  was 
to  prepare  him  for  missionary  work.  In 
pursuance  of  this  high  end  Mr.  Ely  began 
the  next  year  to  beg  money  in  Eleazer's 

289 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

I 

behalf  from  certain  local  missionary  so- 
cieties. That  it  was  in  1803  that  the 
deacon  first  made  such  applications  is  be- 
lieved to  be  significant.  For  when  the 
lad  was  converted  to  Protestantism,  it  is 
surmised,  the  remittances  for  his  support 
were  no  longer  forthcoming. 

In  1804  Thomas  Williams  and  his  wife 
visited  the  two  boys  at  Longmeadow,  and 
the  great  contrast  between  Eleazer  and  his 
reputed  relatives  awakened  anew  the  cu- 
riosity and  interest  of  the  neighbourhood. 
In  May  of  the  same  year,  Mr.  Ely,  being 
in  Boston  with  Eleazer,  made  application 
to  the  Legislature  for  pecuniary  assistance 
in  carrying  on  the  boy's  education,  and  he 
received  a  grant  of  three  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  to  help  fit  the  lad  for  missionary 
duty  among  the  Indians.  Even  thus  early, 
it  will  be  perceived,  there  was  a  very  gen- 
eral feeling  that  this  boy  was  an  unusual 
290 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

person  raised  up  for  a  great  work.  Yet 
the  degrees  by  which  he  was  removed  from 
liis  Longmeadow  friends  had  not  up  to 
this  time  been  even  suspected. 

Perhaps  it  was  first  in  the  May  of  1806, 
when  Mr.  Ely  and  Eleazer,  being  in  Bos- 
ton, attended  the  Catholic  church  of  the 
Abbe  Chevenis,  that  there  broke  upon  the 
boy's  consciousness  a  hint  that  he  might 
be  really  very  different  from  those  among 
whom  he  lived.  Deacon  Ely  must  have 
been  a  particularly  good  example  of  the 
close-mouthed  Puritan.  He  gave  as  his 
excuse  for  attending  the  church  in  question 
his  love  of  music,  but  that  he  should  have 
gone  at  all  to  the  service  of  a  communion 
to  which  he  was  by  birth  and  training 
bitterly  opposed,  is  remarkable.  And  that 
he  should  have  stayed  afterwards  to  talk 
with  the  priest  about  Eleazer,  is  to  be 
accounted  for  only  in  one  way.     Unfor- 

291 


OLD   NEW   ENGLATnTD   CHUKCHES 

tiinately,  no  record  of  the  conversation 
with  Bishop  Cheverus  has  come  down  to 
us  in  Deacon  Ely's  journal,  a  diary  so 
painstaking  in  its  description  of  every-day 
fann  work  and  commonplace  happenings 
that  one  must  believe  its  silence  concerning 
this  quite  unusual  incident  to  have  been 
intentional.  We  do  know,  however,  that 
Eleazer  was  introduced  to  the  Abbe  Che- 
verus as  an  Indian  youth  studying  for  the 
ministry.  And  we  know  further  that  the 
good  abbe,  though  his  interest  in  Indian 
missions  was  tremendously  keen,  did  7iot 
question  his  caller  concerning  his  life  in 
the  forest,  or  his  desires  to  be  of  spiritual 
aid  to  the  red  men.  On  the  contrary,  he 
quite  ignored  this  obvious  topic,  and  asked 
the  boy  about  the  practice  of  the  Indians  in 
adopting  French  children,  and  whether  he 
had  ever  heard  of  a  boy  being  brought  from 
France  and  left  among  them.  The  Abbe 
292 


OLD   ^^EW  ENGLAND   CHURCHES 

Cheverus  was  himself  a  devoted  Loyalist, 
an  exile  from  France,  as  we  have  already 
seen,  because  of  his  political  adherence  to 
the  cause  of  the  martyred  king.  There 
seems  little  doubt  that  he  suspected  Deacon 
Ely's  handsome  charge  to  be  none  other 
than  the  Dauphin  of  France. 

It  is  now  generally  admitted  by  even 
the  most  cautious  students  of  history  that 
there  exists  abundant  and  very  strong  evi- 
dence in  favour  of  the  theory  that  the 
Dauphin  Louis  XVII.  did  not  die  in  the 
Temple.  The  physicians  acknowledged, 
soon  after  the  event,  that  they  could  not 
testify  to  the  identity  of  the  dead  child 
with  the  Dauphin;  several  other  persons 
in  the  Temple  positively  asserted  that  the 
child  who  died  was  not  the  Dauphin ;  the 
police  were  ordered  to  arrest  on  the  high- 
ways of  France  any  persons  travelling 
with  a  child  of  the  Dauphin's   age,   as 

293 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHUKCHES 


there  had  been  an  escape  from  the  Temple ; 
the  royal  family  rejected  at  once  the  heart 
of  the  child  who  died  in  the  Temple;  the 
name  of  the  Dauphin  was  omitted  in  the 
religious  services  ordered  by  Louis  XVIII. 
in  remembrance  of  the  royal  victims  of 
the  Revolution ;  the  grave  supposed  to 
contain  the  body  of  the  Dauphin,  in  the 
Cemetery  of  St.  Marguerite,  was  utterly 
neglected;  the  Duchess  d'Angouleme  as- 
serted on  her  death-bed  that  her  brother 
was  not  dead,  and  demanded  that  he  be 
found  and  restored  to  his  heritage.  Along 
with  all  these  facts  are  to  be  placed  the 
interesting  links  in  the  chain  by  which  a 
wholly  disinterested  historian,  the  Eev- 
erend  John  H.  Hanson,  was  able  to  pro- 
claim in  Putnam's  Magazine  for  Feb- 
ruary, 1853,  his  astounding  story  that 
Louis  XVII.  of  France  had  been  found 
in  the  person  of  the  Reverend  Eleazer 
294 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

Williams,  at  that  time  a  devoted  mission- 
ary to  the  Indians,  living  in  Green  Bay, 
Wisconsin. 

In  1795,  we  learn,  a  family  of  French 
refugees,  consisting  of  a  gentleman  and 
lady  and  two  children,  a  girl  and  a  boy, 
arrived  in  Albany,  New  York,  and  stayed 
there  for  a  short  time.  The  adult  couple 
were  called  Monsieur  and  Madame  de 
Jardin,  but  they  did  not  appear  to  be 
husband  and  wife,  the  man  acting  rather 
as  attendant  upon  the  other  members  of 
the  family.  The  boy,  apparently  about 
ten  years  old,  was  called  Monsieur  Louis, 
and  the  curious  thing  about  him  was  that 
he  did  not  seem  to  notice  any  one  nor  to 
be  aware  of  what  was  passing  around  him. 
Still  it  was  perfectly  obvious  to  all  who 
saw  the  little  family  that  Monsieur  Louis 
was  regarded  as  the  important  member  of 
the  group.    Several  ladies  who  could  speak 

295 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

Erench  called  upon  Madame  de  Jardin, 
and  to  one  of  these  she  confided  that  she 
had  been  maid  of  honour  to  Marie  Antoi- 
nette, and  was  separated  from  her  on  the 
terrace  of  the  palace  before  the  imprison- 
ment in  the  Temple.  In  speaking  of 
affairs  in  France  Madame  de  Jardin  be- 
came much  agitated,  and  with  tears 
streaming  down  her  cheeks  she  played  and 
sang  the  Marseillaise.  After  a  time  the 
de  Jardin  family  left  Albany,  and  their 
new  acquaintances  never  heard  of  them 
again.  Very  soon  after  their  disappear- 
ance two  Frenchmen,  one  of  them  a  Cath- 
olic priest,  having  in  charge  a  sickly  and 
apparently  imbecile  boy,  came  to  Ticon- 
deroga,  near  Lake  George,  and  left  the  boy 
in  charge  of  an  Iroquois  chief,  a  half- 
breed,  named  Thomas  Williams,  whose 
grandmother  was  the  Eunice  Williams  of 
the  Deerfield  raid.  A  haK-breed  Indian 
296 


OLD   NEW  EA^GLAXD   CHURCHES 

chief,  who  witnessed  the  transfer,  heard 
the  two  strangers  tell  Thomas  Williams 
that  the  imbecile  boy  was  Frendi  by  birth. 
While  there  is,  of  course,  no  positive  proof 
that  the  Monsieur  Louis  of  the  Albany 
family  was  the  same  boy  left  with  Thomas 
Williams,  the  circumstantial  evidence 
pointing  to  their  identity  is  strong. 

For  some  time  the  health  of  the  adopted 
lad  was  extremely  delicate,  but  an  outdoor 
life,  plain  food,  and  the  simple  remedies 
furnished  by  his  Indian  protectors  proved 
admirable  means  for  the  upbuilding  of 
his  impaired  physique.  His  intellect, 
however,  continued  deranged  until,  during 
one  of  his  annual  excursions  to  Lake 
George,  where  Thomas  Williams  went 
each  year  to  hunt,  he  fell  from  a  high  rock 
into  the  water  and  cut  his  head  severely 
against  a  stone  beneath  the  surface.  He 
was  taken  up  insensible,  and  had  no  recol- 

297 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

lection  afterwards  of  the  accident ;  but  the 
shock  awakened  his  benumbed  faculties, 
and  his  mind  resumed  its  normal  activity, 
though  his  memories  of  the  past  were  still 
spasmodic  and  confused.  The  same  half- 
breed  chief  who  saw  the  boy  when  he  was 
brought  to  Williams,  was  a  witness  also 
of  this  accident  and  of  its  happv  effect. 

Scarcely  had  Eleazer  attained  the  con- 
dition in  which  impressions  and  people 
must  have  stamped  themselves  with  partic- 
ular clearness  upon  his  memory  than  he 
was  visited  by  two  strangers,  one  of  whom 
was  a  Frenchman,  elegantly  dressed,  and 
wearing  powdered  hair.  This  man  em- 
braced the  lad  tenderly,  wept  over  him, 
talked  earnestly  to  him  with  tears  and  en- 
dearments, and  tried  very  hard  to  make 
him  understand  what  he  had  to  say.  Elea- 
zer, however,  could  no  longer  follow  a  con- 
versation in  French,  though  when  he  had 
298 


OLD  :NtEW  ENGLAiS^D  CHURCHES 


been  brought  to  the  Indians  French  was 
the  language  that  he  spoke.  The  next 
day  the  two  strangers  came  again,  the 
splendid  gentleman  in  the  ruffled  shirt 
calling  the  little  lad  "  imuvre  gargon/' 
and  examining  with  care  the  traces  on 
his  knees  and  ankles  of  what  one  must 
believe  to  be  the  tumors  from  which  the 
child  had  suffered  terribly  during  his  con- 
finement in  the  loathsome  Temple  under 
the  care  of  the  brutal  Simon.  When  the 
stranger  went  away  he  gave  the  boy  a 
gold  piece,  Thomas  Williams,  however, 
was  anxious  only  to  know  whether  Eleazer 
understood  what  the  gentlemen  had  said 
to  him.  Upon  being  assured  by  his  foster- 
son  that  the  whole  proceeding  was  utterly 
incomprehensible  to  him,  he  seemed 
greatly  relieved. 

A   few   days    after   this   visit    Eleazer, 
who  slept  in  the  same  room  with  his  re- 

209 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

puted  parents,  overheard  Thomas  Williams 
urging  his  wife  to  give  her  consent  to  a 
request  which  had  been  made  to  them  to 
allow  two  of  their  boys  to  be  sent  away 
from  home  for  education.  She  objected 
on  religious  grounds,  but  finally  said :  "  If 
you  want  to,  you  may  send  away  the 
strange  boy;  means  have  been  put  into 
your  hands  for  his  education;  but  John 
I  cannot  part  with."  This  remark  made 
Eleazer  suspect  that  he  did  not  really  be- 
long to  the  family,  but  the  impression  soon 
passed  away,  as  such  impressions  do  from 
the  minds  of  children. 

The  sensation  which  the  coming  of  the 
boys  produced  in  the  quiet  village  of  Long- 
meadow  we  have  already  seen.  Every- 
where Eleazer  was  called  "  the  plausible 
boy,"  by  reason  of  his  charming  and  grace- 
ful manners.  In  his  chat  with  the  other 
lads  he  used  sometimes  to  tell  them  that 
300 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

he  remembered  noble  edifices,  beautiful 
gardens,  gorgeously  furnished  apartments, 
ladies  and  gentlemen  in  splendid  attire, 
troops  on  parade,  and  he  himself  lying 
on  a  rich  carpet  with  his  head  on  a  lady's 
silk  dress.  Other  images  of  painful  form 
likewise  thronged  his  mind.  Once  he 
spoke  of  the  scars  on  his  forehead,  and 
said  the  sight  of  them  in  the  glass  always 
brought  up  distressing  thoughts  upon 
which  he  could  not  bear  to  dwell. 

The  death  in  1808  of  Mr.  Ely,  Eleazer's 
first  friend  and  benefactor,  was  a  great 
grief  to  the  lad.  But  it  served  to  bring 
abruptly  to  a  close  the  first  scene  of  his 
civilized  life  in  America.  For  he  had 
now  made  friends  for  himself  on  all  sides, 
and  had  quite  determined  to  be  a  mission- 
ary to  the  people  among  whom  he  had  been 
placed  as  a  child.  He  remained  at  Mans- 
field   and    Longmeadow,    therefore,    only 

301 


OLD   ^EW  EIs^GLA^D   CHURCHES 

till  December  22,  1809,  when  he  was  put 
under  the  tuition  of  the  Reverend  Enoch 
Hale,  of  Westhampton,  Massachusetts, 
with  whom  he  stayed  till  the  month  of 
August,  1812,  though  during  a  great  por- 
tion of  this  time  he  was  absent  on  journeys 
to  various  places,  engaged  in  surveying  the 
missionary  field.  His  equipment  for  the 
work  which  he  had  elected  was  in  many 
ways  remarkable,  and  on  the  breaking  out 
of  the  War  of  1812  he  was  speedily  recog- 
nized by  the  American  government  as  the 
person  best  fitted  to  prevent  the  Indians 
from  taking  up  arms  against  the  United 
States,  and  was  accordingly  appointed 
General  Superintendent  of  the  northern 
Indian  Department  with  a  secret  corps  of 
army  scouts  and  rangers  under  his  com- 
mand. In  this  capacity  he  served  very 
effectively.  But  when  peace  was  estab- 
lished he  devoted  himself  again  to  the 
302 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

study  of  theology,  and  after  mature  de- 
liberation resolved  to  join  the  ministry  of 
the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in- 
stead of  remaining  in  the  Congregational 
communion  with  which  he  had  been  so 
long  connected.  This  change  in  his 
opinions  and  purposes,  while  it  did  not 
cause  any  hard  feeling  among  his  early 
friends,  greatly  hampered  him  financially, 
because  he  was  now,  of  course,  forbidden 
by  delicacy  to  accept  any  of  the  missionary 
funds  heretofore  placed  at  his  disposal  by 
the  Congregational  bodies.  All  his  life, 
however,  he  continued  to  be  interested  in 
the  old  church  at  Longmeadow,  where 
he  had  first  embraced  the  Christian  faith. 
Miss  Julia  Bliss,  of  that  town,  writes  me 
that  she  distinctly  remembers  hearing  him 
preach  there  once,  and  was  greatly  im- 
pressed by  his  courtliness  of  manner,  as 

303 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAND  CHURCHES 

well  as  by  his  able  discharge  of  the  clerical 
function. 

In  July,  1822,  Eleazer  Williams  re- 
moved from  Xew  York  to  Green  Bay, 
Wisconsin,  where  land  had  been  provided 
for  an  Indian  settlement.  And  in  this 
remote  place  it  was  that  the  Prince  de  Join- 
ville,  eldest  son  of  King  Louis  Philippe, 
sought  him  out  when  he  came  to  America 
in  1841,  and  made  the  extraordinary  dis- 
closure that  gives  us  our  romance.  One  of 
the  prince's  first  inquiries  upon  setting 
foot  in  the  country  was  whether  a  man 
named  Eleazer  Williams  lived  among  the 
Indians  of  Northern  Xew  York.  After 
considerable  investigation  he  learned  that 
the  person  he  was  seeking  was  an  Epis- 
copal missionary  at  Green  Bay,  Wisconsin, 
and  for  further  information  he  was  ad- 
vised  to  consult  Mr.    Thomas   Ogden,   a 

304 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

prominent    Episcopalian    of    New    York 
City. 

At  the  request  of  the  prince  Mr.  Ogden 
wrote  to  Mr.  Williams  (who  was  then  at 
Hogansburg,  New  York,  engaged  with 
several  other  persons  upon  important  busi- 
ness connected  with  Indian  affairs),  and 
told  him  that  the  Prince  de  Joinville  was 
in  the  country  and  wished  to  see  him  be- 
fore returning  to  France.  A  meeting  was 
thereupon  appointed  at  Green  Bay,  and 
Mr.  Williams  left  his  business  unfinished 
and  started  directly  for  the  West,  while 
the  prince  took  the  route  through  Canada, 
leaving  Boston,  where  he  was  being  enter- 
tained, very  suddenl}'  and  mysteriously  to 
pursue  the  journey.  Naturally,  Mr.  Will- 
iams was  greatly  surprised  at  the  sum- 
mons to  meet  the  prince,  but  he  supposed 
the  visitor  wished  to  consult  him  concern- 
ing Indian  affairs,  upon  which  he  was  a 

305 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

recognized  authority,  and  he  therefore 
made  all  haste  to  keep  the  appointment. 
He  had  expected  to  meet  the  prince  at 
Green  Bay;  but  on  arriving  at  Mackinac 
he  heard  that  the  royal  party  was  expected 
there  that  day,  and  he  decided,  therefore, 
to  connect  at  once  with  his  distinguished 
visitor.  Soon  the  steamer  came  in  sight, 
salutes  were  exchanged,  flags  were  dis- 
played, and  crowds  gathered,  —  as  they 
always  have  and  probably  always  will  in 
this  inconsistent  democracy,  —  for  the 
purpose  of  gazing  upon  a  representative 
of  royalty.  On  landing,  the  prince  and 
his  retinue  went  to  visit  the  famous  rocks 
about  half  a  mile  from  the  town,  and  the 
steamer  waited  for  them.  But  while  they 
were  gone,  the  captain  sought  out  Mr. 
Williams,  assuring  him  once  more  that 
the  prince  was  very  anxious  to  see  him. 
The  two  then  embarked  on  the  same  vessel, 
306 


OLD   NEW  EIsTGLAND   CHURCHES 

and  in  due  time  Mr.  Williams  was  brought 
face  to  face  with  the  Prince  de  Joinville. 
On  seeing  the  missionary,  the  scion  of 
the  King  of  France  started  with  involun- 
tary surprise ;  his  manner  betrayed  great 
agitation  of  feeling;  he  turned  pale,  his 
lip  quivered,  and  it  was  only  by  the  ex- 
ercise of  tremendous  self-control,  half  a 
dozen  onlookers  testified  later,  that  he  was 
able  to  greet  the  supposed  Indian  with 
conventional  civility.  Mr.  Williams  was 
greatly  surprised  and  mystified  by  the 
prince's  manner,  the  more  so  when  he  was 
invited  to  take  the  seat  of  honour  at  the 
private  table  of  the  royal  party.  This 
distinction  he  however  declined,  and  it  was 
not  until  the  afternoon  that  the  acquaint- 
ance was  resumed.  All  that  day  and  the 
next  the  two  talked  about  the  relations 
between  France  and  America  at  the  time 
of  the  Revolution,  and  about  the  sad  fate 

307 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAXD  CHUECHES 

of  Louis  XVI.  On  arriving  at  Green 
Bay,  the  prince  invited  Mr.  Williams  to 
accompany  him  to  his  hotel,  but  the  mis- 
sionary excused  himself,  saying  that  he 
must  go  to  his  o-^ti  home.  [He  had  mar- 
ried, some  twenty  years  before,  a  wife  of 
French  extraction,  by  whom  he  now  had 
several  children.]  Before  leaving  Mr. 
Williams  promised,  however,  to  return  in 
the  evening,  —  so  urgent  had  the  visitor 
been,  —  and  thus  no  time  was  lost  in  get- 
ting to  the  matter  of  importance  in  hand. 
When  Mr.  Williams  came  back  to  the 
hotel  the  prince  received  him  alone  in  his 
chamber,  and  at  once  opened  the  interview 
by  saying  that  he  had  a  communication 
of  vital  interest  to  both  to  make,  but  that 
since  the  matter  deeply  concerned  several 
other  people,  he  must,  before  going  fur- 
ther, receive  the  missionary's  promise  that 
the  secret  he  was  about  to  divulge  should 
308 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

not  be  revealed.  At  first  Mr.  Williams 
objected  to  pledging  himself  without  know- 
ing the  nature  of  the  information  he  was 
to  receive.  But  after  some  discussion  he 
consented  to  sign  his  name  to  an  agree- 
ment not  to  repeat  what  the  prince  was 
going  to  tell  him,  provided  that  no  harm 
to  other  persons  should  follow  from  his 
silence. 

This  being  done,  the  prince  told  him 
at  once  that  he  was  not  a  native  of  Amer- 
ica, but  was  born  in  Europe,  a  son  of  a 
king.  He  further  presented  a  document 
written  on  parchment  in  double  columns 
of  French  and  English,  which  he  invited 
Mr.  Williams  to  read.  He  then  left  the 
room. 

Scarcely  knowing  whether  his  eyes  made 
out  aright  the  mystifying  words,  the 
missionary  then  perused  the  imposing  doc- 
ument spread  before  him,  an  official  paper 

309 


OLD  Is^EW   EXGLAXD   CHURCHES 

from  which  he  learned  that  he  was 
himself  the  son  of  Louis  XVI.  and  rightful 
King  of  France  under  the  title  of  Louis 
XVII.  He  learned  also  —  and  this  must 
have  burned  itself  torturingly  into  his 
reeling  brain  —  that  he  was  requested  to 
abdicate  all  his  rights  and  titles  in  favour 
of  the  reigTiing  king,  receiving  instead  a 
princely  establishment,  either  in  France  or 
in  America,  together  with  the  restoration 
of  the  private  property  of  the  royal  family, 
confiscated  during  the  Revolution,  or 
fallen  afterwards  into  other  hands. 

Long  and  painful  were  the  hours  which 
the  simple,  conscientious  Christian  minis- 
ter passed  alone  in  that  hotel  room  at 
Green  Bay,  going  over  his  duty  to  his 
family  and  to  himself  as  he  faced  that 
astonishing  parchment.  Very  clearly  he 
saw  that  the  prince's  father  was  indeed, 
as  he  said,  the  choice  of  the  people 
310 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

of  France,  and,  therefore,  in  all  prob- 
ability, rightful  king.  Likewise  unmis- 
takable was  the  fact  that  he,  Eleazer  Will- 
iams, could  never  by  himself  prove  the 
truth  that  the  parchment  asserted.  Yet, 
on  the  other  hand,  he  could  not  consent  of 
his  own  free  will  to  barter  whatever  in- 
herent rights  he  might  have  in  the  throne 
of  France.  After  earnest  thought,  there- 
fore, he  made  known  to  the  prince  his  irre- 
vocable choice  of  truth  and  honour.  He 
told  the  visitor  from  overseas  that  he 
would  not  for  any  consideration  whatever 
give  up  his  own  rights  and  sacrifice  the 
interests  of  his  family.  He  told  him  fur- 
ther that,  as  he  had  placed  him  in  the 
position  of  a  superior,  he  must  assume 
that  position  and  express  his  indignation 
at  the  conduct  of  the  Orleans  family,  one 
of  whose  members  was  guilty  of  the  death 
of    the    murdered    king,    while    another 

311 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

wished  to  deprive  him  of  his  inherited 
rights.  When  Mr.  Williams  declared  his 
superiority  in  rank,  the  prince  stood  in 
respectful  silence.  The  next  day  the  sub- 
ject was  resumed,  but  Mr.  Williams  gave 
the  same  answer.  As  the  prince  went 
away,  he  said  to  the  missionary :  "  Though 
we  part,  I  hope  we  part  as  friends." 

For  seven  years  then  the  matter  slum- 
bered. Mr.  Williams  made  no  attempt 
whatever  to  bring  his  claim  to  the  atten- 
tion of  the  public,  nor  did  he  talk  to  any 
of  his  many  friends  about  the  subject  of 
the  prince's  visit.  Only  to  the  pages  of 
his  journal  did  he  confide  the  thoughts 
which  haunted  and  distressed  him.  The 
pressing  duties  of  active  life  soon  cast 
into  the  background  those  few  hours  of 
awakened  feeling  which  seemed  in  the  ret- 
rospect like  a  bewildering  romance,  and, 
but  for  the  startling  intelligence  communi- 
312 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

cated  to  him  in  1848  from  the  death-bed 
of  one  Bellanger,  the  whole  matter  might 
never  have  come  to  the  ear  of  the  public. 
But  Bellanger  asserted  as  a  dying  con- 
fession that  he  had  assisted  in  the  escape 
of  the  Dauphin  from  the  Temple,  had 
brought  him  to  America,  placed  him 
among  the  Indians,  and  that  he  [the 
Dauphin]  was  now  a  missionary  to  the 
Oneidas,  under  the  name  of  Eleazer  Will- 
iams. A  Boston  newspaper,  the  Chrono- 
type,  got  hold  of  the  matter,  and  pub- 
lished a  communication  on  the  subject, 
April  18,  1848. 

From  this  slight  beginning  the  news 
gradually  spread,  exciting  occasional  dis- 
cussion but  not  creating  general  interest 
until,  in  the  autumn  of  1851,  the  Rev- 
erend John  Hanson,  an  Episcopal  clergy- 
man, happened  to  see  an  article  in  a  New 
York  daily  paper  wherein  it  was  stated 

313 


OLD   Is^EW  ENGLAND   CHURCHES 

that  there  were  strong  reasons  for  believ- 
ing that  Eleazer  Williams  was  indeed  the 
son  of  Louis  XVI.,  one  of  the  reasons 
being  his  remarkable  resemblance  to  the 
Bourbon  family.  Mr.  Hanson's  curiosity 
was  at  once  awakened  by  this,  and  he  re- 
solved to  make  further,  investigations. 
Soon  afterwards  he  accidentally  met  Mr 
Williams  w^hile  travelling,  and  by  his 
sympathetic  interest  in  the  man  and  his 
ability  to  make  him  see  that  the  very 
terms  of  his  promise  to  the  Prince  de 
Joinville  left  him  free  to  disclose  the  sub- 
stance of  the  interview,  won  from  the  now 
almost  distraught  clergyman  the  whole 
curious  story. 

The  tale  of  Mr.  Hanson's  search  for 
additional  evidence  that  Eleazer  Williams 
was  indeed  Louis  XVIL  supplies  one  of 
the  most  interesting  volumes  the  last  cen- 
tury has  produced.  This  clergyman  seems 
314 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

to  have  recognized  from  the  first  Mr. 
Williams's  unfitness  to  cope  with  the  dif- 
ficulties of  the  question.  On  this  account 
he  himself  determined  to  do  everything  in 
his  power  to  bring  the  truth  of  the  matter 
to  light.  In  1853,  as  has  been  said,  he 
embodied  his  researches  in  an  article  pub- 
lished in  the  February  number  of  Put- 
nam's Magazine,  and  entitled,  "  Have  We 
a  Bourbon  among  Us  ? "  This  paper 
created  immediate  and  widespread  interest 
among  readers  on  both  sides  of  the  water. 
A  marked  copy  was,  of  course,  sent  to  the 
Prince  de  Joinville,  and,  as  was  to  be 
expected,  that  nobleman  denied  the  whole 
story.  In  spite  of  the  witness  of  several 
trustworthy  persons,  he  alleged  that  he  had 
not  sought  out  the  Reverend  Eleazer  Will- 
iams, asserted  that  he  had  met  him  only 
by  chance,  and  stated  further  that  what 
conversation  he  had  had  with  him  was  alto- 

315 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

gether  devoted  to  Indian  matters.  The 
reader  who  cares  to  follow  the  details  of 
this  very  interesting  controversy  is  referred 
to  the  volume  "  The  Lost  Prince,"  written 
by  Mr.  Hanson  and  published  by  the  Put- 
nams  in  1854.  For  still  further  infor- 
mation one  may  see  that  very  readable 
book,  ''The  Story  of  Louis  XVII.  of 
France,"  written  by  Elizabeth  E.  Evans, 
who  is  herself  one  of  the  Williams  family. 
Affidavits  from  physicians  to  show  that 
Eleazer  Williams  had  about  him  none  of 
the  physical  traits  of  the  Indian,  but  pos- 
sessed many  of  those  accredited  to  the 
Bourbons,  of  his  foster-mother  to  prove 
that  he  was  indeed  an  adopted  child,  of 
men  who  witnessed  the  Prince  de  Join- 
ville's  agitated  recognition  of  Eleazer 
Williams,  of  Frenchmen  who  asserted  that 
they  were  fully  persuaded  that  this  man 
was  the  lost  Dauphin,  of  two  eminent  por- 
316 


OLD  l^EW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

trait  painters,  Chevalier  Fagnani  and  Mr. 
Muller,  who  had  painted  the  Bourbon 
kings,  are  all  given  in  this  very  interesting 
work.  Fagnani  first  saw  Williams  in  a 
crowded  room,  and,  after  observing  him 
for  some  time,  replied  to  the  question, 
"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  this  being 
a  Bourbon?"  "I  don't  think  at  all;  T 
know !  "  That  the  Dauphin  was  indeed 
brought  to  America  seems  now  to  be  very 
well  established.  So  eminent  a  man  as 
Citizen  Genet  said  of  the  matter  as  early 
as  the  year  1818,  in  the  course  of  an 
evening  party,  where  his  remarks  were 
overheard  by  several  trustworthy  wit- 
nesses :  "  Gentlemen,  the  Dauphin  of 
France  is  not  dead,  but  was  brought  to 
America."  M.  Genet  further  informed 
the  company  that  he  had  believed  the 
Dauphin  was  in  Western  New  York. 
One  cannot   indeed  carefully   examine 

317 


OLD   NEW  EXGLAI^D   CHURCHES 

the  evidence  without  being  convinced  of 
the  truth  of  Eleazer  Williams's  high 
claims.  It  is  impossible  to  believe  that 
this  man  could  have  romanced  to  the  ex- 
tent that  the  circumstances  must  have 
necessitated.  Moreover,  he  never  once 
tried  to  make  capital  out  of  his  story. 
Further,  the  mental  as  well  as^the  physical 
characteristics  of  Mr.  Williams  curiously 
correspond  with  those  the  Dauphin 
would  probably  have  exhibited  had  he 
been  alive  and  in  such  a  position  after 
a  complicated  career.  Those  who  remem- 
ber Mr.  Williams  at  Longmeadow  bear 
constant  testimony  to  his  charm  of  manner, 
his  interesting  conversation,  and  his  un- 
usual courtliness  of  address.  But  they 
further  say  that  his  judgment  in  matters 
of  self-interest  was  weak.  Though  fluent 
and  eloquent  in  diction,  his  ideas  were 
not  always  well  assorted.  And  he  seemed 
318 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAN^D  CHUKCHES 

to  have  no  proper  sense,  as  a  man  with 
that  horrible  childhood  in  the  Temple 
might  very  well  not  have  had,  of  the  steps 
necessary  to  establish  his  identity. 

The  traces  of  that  fatal  blight  which 
fell  upon  his  infancy  became  more  and 
more  perceptible  as  the  years  passed,  and 
though  he  had  been  a  brilliant  and  prom- 
ising youth,  he  was  only  fairly  successful 
in  middle  age.  This  was  not  at  all  to  be 
wondered  at,  for  after  the  revelation  of 
his  birth  Eleazer  Williams  seemed  to  have 
no  rightful  place  among  his  fellow  men. 
Ignored  by  his  royal  kin  across  the  sea, 
regarded  as  an  impostor  by  many 
of  his  brother-ministers,  separated  from 
his  supposed  Indian  relatives  through 
their  recognition  of  his  alien  ancestry, 
unfitted  alike  for  the  position  to  which 
he  was  born  and  for  the  work  which 
circumstances  had  imposed  upon  him,  — 

319 


OLD   Is'EW   ENGLAND   CHURCHES 

surely  few  human  beings  have  occupied 
a  more  anomalous  place  in  society. 

If  this  mystery  of  the  Bourbon  prince 
had  come  to  light  in  1903  instead  of  fifty 
years  ago,  it  would  probably  have  met 
with  a  far  different  reception.  Certainly 
one  cannot  believe  that  we  of  to-day  would 
suffer  the  rightful  heir  to  a  foreign  throne 
to  pour  out  his  life  in  missionary  service 
without  paying  him  even  the  stipend  that 
such  service  ordinarily  commands.  But 
this  is  what  happened  to  Elea^er  Williams. 
Though  he  had  rendered  very  valuable 
aid  to  the  country  in  its  Indian  troubles, 
his  contributions  to  the  solution  of  that 
tremendous  problem  were  never  properly 
appreciated.  And  though  there  is  no 
question  whatever  of  his  simple,  sincere, 
lifelong  devotion  to  the  cause  of  Christ, 
he  never  received  an  adequate  salary  or 
the  cordial  cooperation  of  his  fellow  min- 
320 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUKCHES 

isters.  He  died  August  28,  1858,  at  Ho- 
gansburg,  New  York,  —  where  for  four 
years  he  had  been  spending  the  greater  part 
of  his  time,  engaged  in  missionary  work, 
while  his  family  remained  at  their  home 
on  Fox  River,  Green  Bay,  —  the  same  Mr, 
Hanson  who  had  so  zealously  exploited  his 
cause  having  here  built  a  house  for  his  use. 
The  house  has  now  been  turned  into  the 
Epiccopal  parsonage  of  the  place.  His 
grave  in  the  cemetery  at  Hogansburg  is 
marked  by  a  headstone  erected  by  his  son, 
and  bearing  his  name  and  the  date  of  his 
death. 

The  true  story  of  the  two  puzzling  lives 
here  traced  will  probably  always  remain  an 
unsolved  historical  puzzle.  But  to  those 
who  are  inclined  to  follow  their  intuitions 
and  their  sympathies  rather  than  to  be  eter- 
nally skeptical  of  things,  it  is  sufficiently 

321 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAND  CHURCHES 

clear  that  the  young  man  who  was  ''  con- 
verted "  in  the  old  Longmeadow  church 
in  1802  was  indeed  none  other  than  Louis 
XVII.  of  France. 


322 


V 


TIIK    KKVKKKND    JOSHUA    YOUNO'S    CHURCH, 
BURLINGTON,    VT. 


THE    OSTRACISM    OF   AIT 
ABOLITIONIST 

rllOSE  of  us  born  in  New  England 
since  the  Civil  War  have  so  care- 
fully been  taught  that  the  North 
was  ever  Abolitionist  in  its  attitude,  that 
it  is  with  not  a  little  shock  that  we  learn 
of  such  a  case  of  persecution  for  opinion's 
sake  as  that  of  the  Reverend  Joshua 
Young,  D.  D.,  who  was  driven  from  his 
parish  at  Burlington,  Vermont,  because  he 
officiated  at  John  Brown's  funeral. 

Doctor  Young  is  still  living  in  a  pleas- 
ant little  town  near  Boston,  and  one  day 
he  intends  to  tell  in  full  the  story  of  his 
relation  to  the  Abolition  movement.  Mean- 

323 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

while,  I  give  the  account  of  this  minister's 
connection  with  John  Brown  as  he  him- 
self, a  serene  white-haired  octogenarian, 
with  vivid  recollections  of  the  past,  re- 
cently gave  it  to  me.  At  first  I  found 
him  rather  reluctant  to  open  anew  the 
old  wound  of  his  social  ostracism  because 
of  sympathy  with  the  cause  of  the  blacks. 
"  They  are  rather  ashamed  now  up  in 
Burlington  at  the  way  I  was  treated,"  he 
said,  "  so  why  go  over  it  all  again  ? " 

But  when  I  told  him  that  the  rising  gen- 
eration would  not  and  could  not  believe 
that  New  England  had  ever  failed  to  live 
up  to  the  lofty  anti-slavery  sentiments 
with  which  we  have  been  taught  to  asso- 
ciate her,  imless  the  details  of  such  stories 
as  these  are  made  more  clear,  his  interest 
in  a  modern  rehearsal  of  the  half-century 
old  drama  was  enkindled,  and  he  speedily 
brought  out  his  "  John  Brown  Book  "  — 
324 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

one  of  the  most  significant  scrap-books  it 
has  ever  been  mj  privilege  to  examine  — 
the  better  to  retrace  with  me  the  various 
steps  that  led  to  his  forced  resignation  of 
his  charge  as  pastor  of  the  Congregational 
Unitarian  Church,  at  Burlington. 

"  From  the  beginning,"  said  Mr.  Young, 
"  I  was  an  Abolitionist.  As  early  as  mj 
college  days  (I  was  graduated  from  Bow- 
doin  with  the  class  of  '45)  I  had  given  my 
sympathies  to  the  cause  of  the  blacks. 
And  always  I  admired  John  Brown  as  the 
noblest  of  men.  But  the  ministry  was  the 
work  to  which  I  had  decided  to  devote 
myself,  and  so,  after  leaving  the  Harvard 
Divinity  School  in  '48,  I  went  at  once  to 
what  was  then  known  as  the  New  North 
Church,  on  Hanover  Street,  there  succeed- 
ing as  pastor  Francis  Parkman.  This 
building  is  still  standing,  but  it  is  now 
a  Roman  Catholic  Church. 

325 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

"In  1850,  after  the  fugitive  slave  law 
•was  passed,  obliging  the  return  of  slaves 
who  had  escaped  to  free  States,  I  wit- 
nessed the  shameful  rendition  of  Anthony 
Burns  in  accordance  with  that  law,  and  I 
saw  Thomas  Symmes  similarly  sent  back 
into  servitude.  For  eleven  years  I  was  a 
member  of  a  vigilance  committee,  and  I 
sheltered  many  escaping  slaves  in  my 
house  on  Unity  Street  in  the  Xorth  End. 
By  this  I  made  myself  liable  to  a  fine  of 
one  thousand  dollars  or  imprisonment. 
The  house  was  the  second  on  the  right 
of  Unity  Street  from  Charter  Street,  and 
the  slaves  well  knew  that  if  they  coitM 
get  to  me  I  would  help  them.  And  it 
was  just  the  same  at  Burlington,  where 
I  was  known  as  station  keeper  of  the 
underground  railway  to  Canada, 

"  At  Burlington  I  was  not  far,  of 
course,  from  Xorth  Elba,  where  John 
326 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

Brown's  family  had,  in  1849,  been  settled 
on  a  farm  by  the  sturdy  Abolitionist.  If 
you've  read  any  life  of  John  Brown,  you 
must  know  how  pure  was  his  devotion  to 
the  cause  for  which  he  died,  and  how 
strong  was  the  grip  his  personality  and 
example  had  upon  the  spirits  of  young 
Abolitionists.  He  himself  had  been  in- 
tended for  the  ministry,  you  remember, 
and  all  his  life  long  he  was  a  religious 
man,  filled  with  the  spirit  of  the  Old 
Testament  desire  to  right  the  wrongs  of 
the  oppressed  even  at  the  cost  of  his  o^^m 
and  his  opponents'  lives.  In  his  family 
life  he  was  Puritan  and  patriarchal,  con- 
ducting family  worship,  ruling  his  chil- 
dren finnly,  instructing  them  at  his  knee 
and  singing  hymns  to  them,  not  at  all  the 
kind  of  man,  you  see,  that  his  enemies 
make  him  out.  Though  he  was  head- 
strong,  he   was   humane   and   kind,    and 

327 


OLD  WEW   EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

Frank  Sanborn,  of  Concord,  who  knew 
him  well,  even  tells  of  seeing  him  weep 
at  a  perfonnance  of  Schubert's  '  Sere- 
nade.' This,  and  the  fact  that  he  taught 
a  singing-school  for  a  time  at  Xorth  Elba, 
shows  whether  he  was  or  was  not  the  brutal 
creature  his  enemies  believed.'* 

But  here  let  us  review  —  as  I  was 
obliged  to  before  I  could  fully  appreciate 
Doctor  Young's  interesting  story  —  some 
of  the  facts  of  John  Brown's  life.  This 
and  a  glimpse  into  his  cabin  at  Xorth 
Elba  will  help  us  to  get  into  the  spirit 
of  the  narrative.  Up  in  that  rough  Adi- 
rondack home  of  his.  Brown's  favourite 
books  numbered  not  only  the  "  Pilgrim's 
Progress,"  but  a  "  Life  of  N'apoleon,"  not 
only  Baxter's  "  Saint's  Rest,"  but  the 
"  Life  of  Oliver  Cromwell."  His  daughter 
has  told  us  that  though  he  loved  all  of 
the  Bible  he  cared  especially  for  the  story 
328 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

of  Gideon.  This  sheds  light  upon  subse- 
quent events.  Undoubtedly  he  aspired  to 
do  for  the  blacks  what  Gideon  did  for  the 
children  of  Israel. 

Brown's  ideal  seemed  first  to  express 
itself  in  definite  action  when,  in  Septem- 
ber, 1855,  he  went  to  Kansas,  whither  his 
sons  had  preceded  him.  To  his  wife  and 
children  at  North  Elba  he  wrote  pictur- 
esque accounts  of  his  journey,  and  in  one 
of  the  letters  there  is  a  tender  allusion 
to  the  skill  with  which  Oliver,  the  young 
son  who  had  accompanied  him,  brings 
down  the  chickens  used  for  meat,  as  the 
party  travels  in  their  rude  caravan  wagon. 

Brown's  purpose  in  making  this  journey 
was,  of  course,  to  try  to  establish  an  anti 
instead  of  a  pro-slavery  majority  in  Kan- 
sas. Contrary  to  the  pledge  of  the  Mis- 
souri Compromise,  the  Kansas-Nebraska 
Bill  provided  that  the  question  of  slavery 

329 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

in  that  State  should  be  determined  by 
those  who  should  settle  there.  Conse- 
quently it  was  a  rush  to  see  which  side 
should  colonize  first.  The  Emigrant  Aid 
Company,  of  New  England,  was  sending 
many  settlers  into  Kansas  with  the  object 
of  outnumbering  and  outvoting  the  pro- 
slavery  settlers,  and  over  these  John 
Brown  acted  as  a  kind  of  captain  and 
leader. 

The  Free  State  people  were  at  first 
altogether  inclined  to  be  quiet  and  law- 
abiding,  but  the  Missourians  became  so 
high-handed  in  their  acts,  and  so  delib- 
erately rode  across  the  line  into  the  Terri- 
tory to  vote  fraudulently,  to  shoot  and  to 
rob,  that  the  New  England  friends  of  the 
settlers  from  the  North  soon  began  to  send 
down  rifles,  the  better  to  advance  the  cause 
they  had  so  near  their  hearts. 

Brown  bestirred  himself  promptly 
330 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

against  the  Missourian  invaders,  and  in 
December,  1855,  was  made  captain  of  a 
band  organized  to  resist  a  raid  on  the 
Free  State  town  of  Lawrence.  On  this 
first  occasion  the  raiders  were  repulsed, 
one  of  Brown's  men  being  killed. 

It  was  not,  however,  until  the  next 
spring  that  Brown  struck  his  stinging 
blow  at  the  raiding  Missourians.  His 
own  life  and  that  of  all  his  followers  was 
in  danger,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  it 
was  absolutely  necessaiy  to  show  fight  to 
the  men  who  were  terrorizing  the  neigh- 
bourhood. So,  getting  together  a  small 
party,  he  went,  on  the  night  of  May  2i, 
to  the  shores  of  Pottawatomie  Creek,  and 
calling  the  pro-slavery  leaders  out  of  their 
beds,  he  directed  the  execution  of  five 
of  them. 

This  fearful  deed  sent  a  thrill  of  horror 

through  the  entire  country.     But  Brown 

001 

ool 


OLD  :ntew  e^tgland  churches 

seems  not  to  have  had  the  smallest  doubt 
that  he  was  directed  by  Providence  in  his 
act.  There  is  a  story  that,  after  the  terri- 
ble night,  he  called  his  followers  and  his 
captives  together  for  divine  worship  in 
his  camp,  and  raised  to  heaven  in  fervent 
invocation  hands  to  which  still  clung  the 
dried  blood  of  his  victims.  His  son  dis- 
credits this  —  at  least,  the  "  dried  blood  " 
part. 

Evidently  Doctor  Young,  however, 
wished  to  be  assured  that  Brown  did  not 
personally  partake  in  this  awful  piece  of 
work,  for  one  of  the  most  interesting  auto- 
graph letters  to  be  seen  in  his  "  Brown  " 
book  is  the  following,  obviously  in  reply 
to  an  inquiry  of  his : 

"  I^OETH  Elba,  N.  Y.,  Dec.  27,  1859. 
"  The    Reverend    Joshua    Young  — 
Dear  Sir:  —  Your  letter  to  my  mother  was 
332 


THE    KKVERKNl)    Jt)SllUA    YOUNG 


OLD  NEW  EliGLAND   CHURCHES 

received  to-night.  You  wished  me  to  give 
you  the  facts  in  regard  to  the  Pottawatomie 
execution  or  murder,  and  whether  my 
father  was  a  participator  in  the  act.  I 
was  one  of  his  company  at  the  time  of 
the  homicides,  and  was  never  away  from 
him  one  hour  at  a  time  after  we  took  up 
arms  in  Kansas.  Therefore  I  say  posi- 
tively that  he  was  not  a  participator  in  the 
deed. 

"  Although  I  should  think  none  the  less 
of  him  if  he  had  been,  for  it  was  the 
grandest  thing  that  was  ever  done  in  Kan- 
sas. It  was  all  that  saved  the  Territory 
from  being  run  over  with  drunken  land 
pirates  from  the  Southern  States.  That 
was  the  first  act  in  the  history  of  our 
country  that  proved  to  the  demon  of 
slavery  that  there  was  as  much  room  to 
give  blows  as  to  take  them.  It  was  done 
to  save  life  and  strike  terror  through  their 

333 


OLD   ^^EW  EXGLAXD   CHUECHES 

wicked  ranks.     I  should  like  to  write  you 
more  about  it,  but  I  have  not  time  now. 
We  all  feel  very  grateful  to  you  for  your 
kindness   to   us.      Yours   respectfully, 
"  Salmon  Bkown." 

Terrible  as  the  deed  undoubtedly  was, 
it  seems  to  be  quite  true  that  it  was  this 
that  saved  Kansas  to  the  free  States,  for 
Browm's  men,  a  mere  handful,  were  soon 
able  to  do  deeds  out  of  all  proportion  to 
their  strength  —  witness  the  battle  at 
Osawatomie.  And  ere  long  it  was  recog- 
nized that  slaves  could  not  be  held  in 
Kansas.  After  that  the  climax  came  on 
apace. 

John  Brown's  daring  plan  to  raid  Har- 
per's Ferry  was  first  disclosed  to  his 
JsTorthern  friends  February  22,  1858,  at 
the  house  of  Gerrit  Smith,  in  Peterboro, 
Xew  York.  Frank  Sanborn,  of  Concord, 
334 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

and  Colonel  Thomas  Wentworth  Higgin- 
son  were  both  present  at  this  conference, 
and  they  used  every  possible  argument  to 
dissuade  Brown  from  his  desperate  and 
obviously  ill-fated  undertaking. 

Hour  after  hour  the  men  talked  and 
contended,  Brown  answering  volubly  every 
objection  presented.  When  they  protested 
that  it  was  utterly  hopeless  to  undertake 
so  vast  a  work  as  war  with  the  whole 
South  upon  such  slender  means,  the  in- 
domitable captain  replied :  "  If  God  be 
for  us,  who  can  be  against  us  ?  "  In  truth, 
it  seemed  to  be  John  Brown's  rebellion. 
So,  promising  to  raise  what  money  they 
could  to  help,  the  Massachusetts  Abolition- 
ists returned  home.  And  Brown,  after  a 
brief  visit  to  the  family  at  North  Elba, 
went  to  Canada  to  enlist  the  support  of 
the  negroes  who  had  taken  refuge  there. 

335 


OLD  ^TEW  EXGLAXD   CHURCHES 

Then  he  took  up  a  residence  in  Virginia, 
and  elaborated  his  plans  for  the  raid. 

In  all  the  world's  history  there  is  re- 
corded nothing  more  audacious  than  this 
determination  of  Brown's  to  precipitate 
war  upon  the  slave  States  by  seizing  the 
United  States  arsenal  at  Harper's  Ferry. 
It  w^as  a  desperate  and  a  fatal  step  from 
the  start.  Brown's  own  sons  disapproved 
of  it,  and  all  his  followers  tried  to  turn 
him  from  it.  But  at  this  stage,  if  not 
before,  the  Abolitionist  was  a  fanatic,  de- 
termined to  die  if  need  be  in  the  cause 
he  had  espoused.  It  is  asserted  that 
Brown  preached  to  a  band  of  simple  be- 
lievers in  the  little  Dunker  Chapel  just 
before  starting  out  on  his  raid.  And  then 
he  and  his  handful  of  men  silently  and 
swiftly  captured  one  of  the  arsenal  build- 
ings. 

A  picturesque  incident  of  the  raid  was 
336 


OLD   NEW  ENGLAI^D   CHURCHES 

the  way  in  which  Brown  took  possession 
of  a  famous  sword  captured  with  Colonel 
Lewis  Washington,  a  descendant  of  George 
Washington's  brother.  This  sword  was  one 
which  Frederick  the  Great,  of  Prussia, 
had  sent  as  a  gift  to  General  George  Wash- 
ington, and  which  Lewis  Washington  had 
inherited.  Brown  took  it  and  carried  it 
proudly  until  he  was  himself  made  a 
prisoner.  So  effectively  did  his  manner 
make  its  impress  upon  Colonel  Washing- 
ton that  that  gentleman  had  at  first  no 
doubt  at  all  that  the  wearer  of  his  an- 
cestral sword  was  the  important  head  of 
a  large  force  instead  of  a  trebly  outlawed 
leader  of  scarcely  a  score  of  men. 

All  the  morning  of  October  17th  there 
was  scattered  fighting,  the  militia  having 
promptly,  of  course,  come  to  arrest  the 
unknown  white  man  called  "  Captain 
Smith  "  who  was  attempting  to  stir  up  a 

337 


OLD   >s^EW  EXGLAXD   CHURCHES 

negro  insurrection.  Finally,  having  lost 
manj  of  his  men,  Brown  barricaded  him- 
self in  the  engine-house,  all  the  time,  as 
he  directed  the  men,  giving  them  orders 
•not  to  shoot  when  they  could  possibly 
avoid  it.  His  last  words  to  his  men,  before 
leaving  on  this  desperate  errand,  indicate, 
indeed,  as  nothing  else  does,  the  spirit  in 
which  the  attempt  was  made :  "  And  now, 
gentlemen,  let  me  press  one  thing  on 
your  minds.  You  all  know  how  dear  life 
is  to  you,  and  how  dear  your  lives  are 
to  your  friends ;  and  in  remembering 
that,  consider  that  the  lives  of  others  are 
as  dear  to  them  as  yours  are  to  you.  Do 
not,  therefore,  take  the  life  of  any  man 
if  you  can  possibly  avoid  it;  but  if  it  is 
necessary  to  take  life  in  order  to  save 
your  own,  then  make  sure  work  of  it." 

Of   course  the   arrival   by   train   from 
Washington    of    a    company    of    United 
338 


OLD  XEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

States  marines,  headed  by  Colonel  Robert 
Lee  and  Lieutenant  J.  E.  B.  Stuart,  both 
of  them  afterwards  famous  as  Confederate 
generals,  quite  settled  the  question  of 
fighting.  Moreover,  scarcely  any  of 
Brown's  men  were  by  this  time  alive. 
Stuart  it  was  who,  coming  into  the  engine- 
house  with  a  light  under  a  flag  of  truce 
to  parley,  exclaimed,  on  seeing  Brown : 
"  Why,  aren't  you  old  Osawatomie  Brown, 
of  Kansas,  whom  I  once  had  there  as  my 
prisoner  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Bro^^Ti,  "  but  you  did  not 
keep  me."  This  was  the  first  intimation 
that  the  Harper's  Ferry  people  had  of 
Brown's  identity. 

Arrest,  trial,  and  conviction  for  "  trea- 
son and  conspiring  and  advising  with 
slaves  and  others  to  rebel,  and  of  murder 
in  the  first  degree,"  followed  swiftly  after 
Harper's  Ferry.   Only  six  days  were  neces- 

339 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

sary  to  bring  in  the  verdict  of  conviction. 
All  the  way  through  the  prisoner  was  calm 
and  self-possessed,  and  refused  to  plead  to 
insanity,  which,  when  his  lawyer  urged  it 
for  him,  he  called  "  a  miserable  device." 
Very  often,  indeed,  he  said  to  those  about 
him :  "  I  think  that  my  great  object  will 
be  nearer  its  accomplishment  by  my  death 
than  by  my  life." 

He  was  hanged  at  Charlestown,  Vir- 
ginia, December  2,  1858,  his  last  recorded 
act  as  he  went  to  the  gallows  being  a 
tender  kiss  bestowed  upon  a  negro  child. 
He  would  have  no  religious  services  at 
the  execution,  because  all  the  available 
clerg\'men  were  pro-slavery  men. 

The  day  of  the  execution.  Doctor  Young 
recalls,  meetings  were  held  for  and  against 
Brown's  cause  all  over  the  country.  The 
excitement  ran  very  high,  and  so  turbulent 
was  the  popular  feeling  that  the  mayor  of 
340 


OLD   NEW  Ej^GLAIST)   CHURCHES 

Philadelphia  would  not  give  Mrs.  Brown 
permission  to  let  the  body,  which  had  been 
given  over  to  her,  receive  undertaking  at- 
tention in  that  place.  Here  it  was  that  the 
false  casket  episode  was  enacted. 

"  That  happened  in  this  way,"  said 
Doctor  Young,  when  I  asked  him  about 
this  part  of  the  funeral  journey.  "  Only 
the  swiftest  possible  passage  of  the  body 
through  Philadelphia  could  ensure  peace, 
the  mayor  believed.  But  the  mob  was 
there.  So  to  divert  them  a  tool-box  in 
the  car  was  substituted  for  the  coffin,  a 
deerskin  thrown  over  it,  and  policemen 
called  to  bear  it  to  a  waiting  cart.  These 
officers  removed  their  hats  and  reverently 
bore  the  box  on  their  shoulders  out  from 
the  car  to  the  cart.  Of  course,  when  the 
cart  started  off  the  crowd  followed.  Then 
the  true  coffin  was  taken  to  another  station 

341 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

and  sent  on  through  to  Xew  York,  the 
entire  trip  taking  five  days. 

"  As  soon  as  I  learned  that  the  body 
was  to  be  brought  to  Brown's  home  for 
interment,  I  said  to  my  wife :  '  I  shall 
go  over  to  that  funeral.' 

"  '  Joshua,'  she  replied,  '  is  it  wise  ? ' 

"  '  It  may  not  be  wise,'  I  answered,  '  but 
I  am  going,  just  the  same.' 

"  An  Abolitionist  friend,  Mr.  Bigelow, 
a  young  man  like  myself,  agreed  to  set 
out  with  me.  It  was  our  intention  to  join 
the  funeral  party  at  Vergennes,  fifteen  or 
twenty  miles  from  Burlington.  But  we 
arrived  there  too  late  to  connect  with  their 
train,  and  we  had  to  go  on  all  night  as 
best  we  could  through  a  terrible  winter 
storm.  We  reached  North  Elba  about  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  having  had  nothing 
to  eat  for  more  than  twenty-four  hours. 

"  The  burial  was  at  one  o'clock,  and, 
342 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

though  I  had  come  as  an  Abolitionist 
friend  and  admirer  of  John  Brown, 
rather  than  as  a  clergyman,  it  happened 
that  I  was  the  only  minister  there.  I 
was  told  that  it  would  greatly  please  the 
family  if  I  should  perform  the  last  rites 
and  make  a  prayer.     This  I  did. 

"  Wendell  Phillips  was  looking  after 
Mrs.  Brown,  who,  very  naturally,  quite 
broke  down  when  the  remains  had  been 
escorted  from  the  rough  cabin  house  to 
the  grave  near  the  great  bowlder  beside 
which  Brown  had  asked  to  be  buried,  and 
as  she  stood  there,  sobbing  and  overcome 
with  her  grief,  I  whispered  to  her  for 
consolation  that  sublime  text  from  St. 
Paul :  '  I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I  have 
finished  my  course,  I  have  kept  the  faith: 
henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown 
of  righteousness,  which  the  Lord,  the 
righteous  judge,  shall  give  me  at  that  day.' 

343 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAXD  CHUECHES 

"  When  I  took  up  the  Burlington  paper 
the  next  day,  I  found  myself  attacked 
with  terrible  fierceness  for  using  this  text 
over  John  Brown's  body.  And  this  was 
but  the  beginning  of  the  veritable  perse- 
cution I  experienced.  Six  of  the  most 
prominent  families  of  my  parish  retired 
at  once  from  the  church,  and  it  looked 
as  if  my  professional  prospects  were  to  be 
ruined  for  life. 

"  One  of  the  most  cutting  snubs  I  re- 
ceived was  at  a  social  function,  a  recep- 
tion to  a  bride,  to  which  Mrs.  Young  and 
I  had  been  invited  before  the  funeral. 
Quite  naturally,  when  I  saw  a  group 
of  ladies  with  whom  I  had  been  on  inti- 
mate terms,  as  a  popular  pastor  is  on  inti- 
mate terms  with  the  prominent  women  in 
his  congregation,  I  stepped  up  to  them 
and  made  some  pleasant  remark  or  other. 

"  Quick  as  a  flash  they  turned  away 
344 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

from  me  without  speaking.  At  first  I 
hardly  knew  what  to  make  of  it.  But  I 
soon  saw  that  the  coldness  of  the  assembly 
was  for  my  benefit,  and,  as  quickly  as  we 
could,  Mrs.  Young  and  I  went  home.  The 
treatment  we  received  at  that  reception 
was  but  a  hint  of  what  was  to  follow. 
Door  after  door  to  homes  where  we  had 
been  welcome  guests  were  shut  against  us. 
My  parishioners  cut  me  on  the  street.  The 
feeling  was  that  I  had  disgraced  myself 
and  the  church  and  all  my  fellow  ministers 
by  officiating  at  the  funeral  of  one  whom 
they  regarded  as  a  felon  and  a  traitor.  It 
would  seem  as  if  a  clergyman  should  be 
immune  wherever  he  might  have  per- 
formed the  sacred  rites  of  his  holy  office, 
but  business  interests  were  imperilled  by 
the  slave  insurrections,  and  politically  as 
well  as  commercially  the  excitement  ran 
very  high. 

345 


OLD  XEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

"  It  was  soon  necessary  for  me  to  leave 
Burlington.  While  I  was  not  actually 
driven  out  of  my  parish,  I  was  ostracized 
socially,  and  made  to  feel  that,  for  the 
good  of  the  church,  I  must  go.  I  was 
thirty-six  when  I  left  the  parish  in  Bur- 
lington, and  went  out  into  the  world,  not 
knowing  whither.  For  a  time  it  seemed 
as  if  I  must  give  up  the  ministry,  but 
eventually  I  was  called  to  another  charge, 
and  since  my  life  has  gone  on  as  smoothly 
as  most  lives  do.  My  '  persecution,'  as 
people  call  it,  is  only  interesting  (if  it 
has  interest)  as  a  side-light  upon  New 
England  character  in  the  early  '60's,  and 
as  an  example  of  what  may  come  into 
the  life  of  an  honest  minister." 


346 


THK    KKV^:KE^■I>    I'lIlLI.irs     HUOOKS 


THE   IDEAL   MINISTER   OF   THE 
AMERICAX    GOSPEL 

/T  was  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  who 
said  of  Phillips  Brooks,  ''  I  believe 
he  is  to  stand  as  the  ideal  minister 
of  the  American  gospel,  —  which  is  the 
old  world  gospel,  shaped,  as  all  gospels 
are,  by  their  interpreters,  by  the  influences 
of  our  American  civilization."  This  mas- 
terly interpretation  of  Brooks's  life  was 
made  when  he  was  in  the  height  of  his 
career  as  rector  of  Trinity  Church.  To 
the  parish  as  well  as  to  the  minister,  there- 
fore, may  well  enough  be  accorded  the 
credit  of  powerful  formative  influence  in 
the  evolution  of  latter-day  American 
Christianity. 

34:7 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 


The  history  of  the  first  edifice  called 
Trinity  Church  began  in  1728.  In  the 
April  of  that  year  steps  were  taken  toward 
the  formation  of  a  third  Episcopal  church 
in  Boston  "  by  reason  that  the  chapel 
(King's  Chapel)  is  full,  and  no  pews  to 
be  bought  by  newcomers."  Land  was 
accordingly  purchased  at  the  corner  of 
Summer  and  Hawley  Streets,  and  it  was 
arranged  that  a  church  should  be  built 
thereon  "  most  conducing  to  the  decent 
and  regular  performance  of  divine  service 
according  to  the  rubrick  of  the  Common 
Prayer-Book  used  by  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land as  by  law  established."  The  move- 
ment developed  slowly,  and  it  was  six 
years  before  the  corner-stone  of  the  pro- 
posed building  was  laid,  though  the  church 
was  soon  organized  under  the  name  of 
Trinity  Church,  and  services  were  begun. 
On  April  15,  1734,  however,  sufficient 
348 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

subscriptions  having  been  secured,  the  cor- 
ner-stone was  laid  by  the  Reverend  Roger 
Price,  of  King's  Chapel,  as  commissary 
of  the  Bishop  of  London.  Then  without 
further  delay  the  building  was  erected, 
a  wooden  structure  ninety  by  sixty  feet, 
and  thirty  feet  high.  On  August  15,  1735, 
the  house  was  opened  for  worship,  the 
Reverend  Addington  Davenport,  brother- 
in-lay  of  Peter  Faneuil,  being  chosen  first 
rector. 

The  parish  seems  to  have  become  speed- 
ily prosperous.  After  the  death  of  Mr. 
Davenport,  the  Reverend  William  Hooper, 
who  had  been  pastor  of  the  West  Congre- 
gational Church  (now  the  West  Church 
Library),  was  chosen  to  be  the  rector.  Mr. 
Hooper  had  left  the  Congregationalists  be- 
cause of  his  desire  to  enlist  in  a  church  of 
greater  breadth  than  was  the  West  Church 
of  tliat  date,  and  his  ordination  was  made 

349 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

especially  impressive  from  the  fact  that 
he  went  to  England  for  it.  In  1747  he 
came  back  in  full  orders,  took  charge  of 
the  parish  immediately,  and  retained  it  for 
twenty  years  —  till,  in  1767,  he  fell  sud- 
denly dead  as  he  was  walking  in  his 
garden. 

Trinity  Church  alone,  it  is  worth  noting, 
stood  for  the  Episcopacy  in  Boston  during 
the  Revolutionary  War;  it  was  always 
open  for  worship,  keeping  alight  the  en- 
dangered fire  of  the  old  faith.  To  be 
sure,  the  rector,  Doctor  William  Walter, 
fled  to  Xova  Scotia  when  Boston  was  evac- 
uated by  the  British,  but  Doctor  Samuel 
Parker,  who  had  been  his  assistant,  nobly 
filled  the  place  left  vacant,  and  by  his 
calm  and  dignified  behaviour  made  possi- 
ble the  holding  of  the  hated  Church  of 
England  service  even  in  those  troublous 
Revolutionary  times.  Doctor  Parker  had 
350 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

the  tact  to  omit  the  prayers  for  the  king, 
concluding  that  "  it  would  be  more  for  the 
interest  and  cause  of  Episcopacy,  and  the 
least  evil  of  the  two,  to  omit  a  part  of  the 
liturgy,  than  to  shut  up  the  church."  And 
this  good  sense  it  was  which  saved  the 
Episcopacy  to  post-Eevolutionary  Bos- 
tonians.  When  General  Washington  was 
in  Boston,  in  1789,  to  pass  the  Sabbath,  he 
went  to  Trinity  Church  in  the  forenoon 
to  hear  Doctor  Parker  preach. 

In  1804  this  faithful  rector  was  chosen 
Bishop  of  Massachusetts.  He  died  the 
same  year.  But  before  his  death  another 
ministry,  which  was  destined  to  be  long 
and  influential  in  the  history  of  Trinity, 
had  begim,  for  John  Sylvester  Gardiner, 
who  had  been  chosen  assistant  minister  in 
1792,  was  then  made  rector.  He  served  for 
twenty-five  years,  in  the  course  of  which 
the  Anthology  Club,  which  grew  into  what 

351 


OLD  XEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

is  now  the  Boston  Athenaeum,  was  organ- 
ized in  his  home.  He  was  succeeded  by 
Doctor  Doane. 

But  the  time  had  come  when  the  old 
church  building,  which  had  stood  almost 
a  hundred  years,  no  longer  satisfied  the 
people.  The  proprietors,  therefore,  voted, 
in  1828,  to  take  down  the  venerable  struc- 
ture and  to  build  a  new  one.  This  second 
church,  known  to-day  as  Old  Trinity,  was 
finally  consecrated  by  Bishop  Griswold, 
November  11,  1829.  Doctor  Hopkins, 
Doctor  Wainright,  Doctor  Watson,  Bishop 
Clark,  Doctor  John  Cotton  Smith,  Doctor 
Mercer,  Doctor  Potter  (now  Bishop  Potter, 
of  !N'ew  York),  and  Bishop  Eastman,  were 
the  succeeding  rectors  who  antedated  Phil- 
lips Brooks  as  ministers  here. 

It  was  on  Sunday,  October  31,  1869, 
that  America's  greatest  preacher  began  his 
ministry  in  Boston.  The  new  rector 
352 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

brought  with  him  from  Philadelphia, 
where  he  had  been  serving  under  Doctor 
Vinton,  tremendous  enthusiasm  for  his 
work,  and  very  soon  Trinity  Church  was 
crowded  to  the  doors  by  those  who  came 
from  far  and  near  to  "  hear  Phillips 
Brooks  preach." 

The  new  rector  was  but  thirty-three,  a 
bachelor,  and  in  the  height  of  that  manly 
beauty  which  men,  as  well  as  women,  have 
ever  so  greatly  admired.  From  the  first, 
of  course,  the  young  ladies  of  old  Trinity 
Church  made  the  minister  very  welcome 
to  their  homes,  as  is  the  fashion  of  young 
ladies  toward  ministers.  But  neither  then 
nor  at  any  future  time  was  the  name  of 
Phillips  Brooks  linked  with  that  of  any 
woman.  To  be  sure,  vague  rumours  of  a 
romance  left  behind  in  Philadelphia  fol- 
lowed him  throughout  his  life,  and  helped 
those  who  needed  help  to  account  for  his 

853 


OLD  X£W  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

continued  celibacy.  The  fact  patent  to  all, 
however,  was  that  he  gave  always  to 
Trinity  Church  the  single-hearted  devotion 
another  might  have  given  to  a  wife.  From 
the  beginning  of  his  rectorate  Boston 
seemed  in  a  fair  way  to  go  mad  over  the 
young  preacher.  Soon  Trinity  Church 
had  exceeding  diflBculty  in  looking  after 
the  throngs  that  came.  The  sexton,  Mr, 
Dillon,  strove  in  vain  to  meet  an  emer- 
gency so  wholly  unlike  anything  he  had 
hitherto  known  in  his  long  administration. 
He  tried  to  sort  the  people  who  presented 
themselves  for  admission.  "  Dillon  once 
came  to  me  in  the  vestry-room,"  said  Mr. 
Brooks,  in  speaking  of  the  matter  to  a 
friend,  "  to  tell  me  of  a  method  he  had 
devised  to  reduce  the  numbers  who  sought 
admittance  to  the  church.  '  When  a  young 
man  and  a  young  woman  come  together, 
I  separate  them,'  he  explained,  and  he 
354 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUECHES 

expected  me  to  approve  the  fiendish 
plan!" 

The  journalists  of  the  day  found  this 
new  preacher  exceedingly  good  "  copy." 
One  of  them  writes  as  follows  of  a  Sunday 
service :  "  The  old  building  seems  the  fit- 
ting place  of  worship  for  the  solid  men  of 
Boston.  There  is  an  air  of  ancient  re- 
spectability about  it.  .  .  .  The  deep, 
roomy  pews,  thoughtfully  padded,  seem 
adjusted  for  sleeping,  and  though  seven 
can  sit  comfortably  in  them,  if  you  humbly 
ask  for  the  fifth  seat  in  some  of  them,  be- 
ware of  the  lofty  look  and  high-bred  scorn 
which  seems  to  say,  '  Are  not  the  galleries 
free  to  negro  servants  and  strangers? 
...  I  shall  have  to  let  you  in,  I  suppose. 
Take  that  prayer-book  and  keep  quiet; 
service  has  begun.  Don't  you  see  Mr. 
Brooks  ? ' 

"  Yes,  we  do  see  the  Reverend  Phillips 

355 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUKCHES 

Brooks,  a  tall,  stout,  powerfully  built  man, 
with  smooth,  boyish  face  and  very  near- 
sighted eyes,  which,  nevertheless,  by  the 
help  of  glasses,  seem  to  search  you  out  in 
whatever  dark  corner  you  may  be  hidden. 
He  is  reading  the  service  with  a  thin  voice 
and  rapid,  breathless,  almost  stuttering  de- 
livery, and  yet  with  a  certain  impulsive 
and  pleading  earnestness  that  carries  even 
Congregationalists  onto  their  knees,  and 
takes  them  to  the  throne  of  grace." 

The  young  people,  especially  of  the  more 
cultivated  class,  ran  after  Mr.  Brooks  as 
no  Boston  minister  before  or  since  has 
ever  been  run  after.  Without  being  able 
to  analyze  it,  all  his  hearers  felt  the  man's 
magnetism.  Very  soon  the  preacher  rose 
to  the  place  of  foremost  citizen  of  Boston, 
his  native  town.  His  presence  at  every 
civic  solemnity  or  function  seemed  indis- 
pensable to  its  completeness.  Often  the 
356 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHUHCHES 

boy  in  the  man  was  greatly  amused  at  the 
deference  paid  to  him ;  and  often  he  would 
drop,  almost  perforce,  from  the  pedestal 
upon  which  adoring  Bostonians  had  placed 
him.  It  is  related  that  in  February,  1871, 
when  he  was  present  at  the  meeting  in 
Music  Hall,  which  ultimately  resulted  in 
the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  he 
spoke  with  singular  ingenuousness  of  what 
he  had  gained  as  a  boy  in  the  Boston  Latin 
School  from  the  old  room  which  contained 
the  wonderful  casts  of  the  Laocoon  and 
Apollo,  and  this  simple  speech  doubtless 
helped  very  greatly  in  the  erection  of  the 
fine  building  in  Copley  Square. 

One  of  Mr.  Brooks's  boyhood  ideals  had 
been  to  be  a  famous  lecturer.  But  now 
that  he  was  a  man  he  would  have  none 
of  any  profession  except  the  preacher's. 
Mr.  Redpath,  of  the  famous  New  England 
Lyceum,  wished  to  conduct  a  lecture  course 

357 


OLD  NEW  EXGLAXD  CHURCHES 

for  him  as  much  as  the  editor  of  the 
Atlantic  Monthly  wished  to  make  him  a 
literary  man.  But  both  invitations  he  de- 
clined. Whatever  he  did  from  the  time 
of  his  coming  to  Boston  he  did  as  a 
preacher. 

One  of  his  letters  speaks  very  beauti- 
fully of  his  joy  in  this  work:  "  The  old 
round  of  parish  duties  which  I  have  gone 
to  afresh  every  autumn  for  twelve  years 
has  opened  again,  and  I  have  been  rather 
surprised  at  myself  to  find  that  I  take  it 
up  with  just  as  much  interest  as  ever, 
I  suppose  that  other  men  feel  it  of  their 
occupations,  but  I  can  hardly  imagine  that 
any  other  profession  can  be  as  interesting 
as  mine.  I  am  more  and  more  glad  I 
am  a  parson."     (September  25,  1871.) 

Mr.  Brooks's  occasional  comments  on 
Boston  institutions  were  very  amusing. 
Under  date  May  30,  1872,  he  writes:  "I 
358 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

am  getting  up  a  sermon  for  the  Ancient 
and  Honourable  Artillery  Company,  one 
of  the  queer  old  Puritan  organizations 
before  which  every  Boston  minister 
preaches  sometime  in  his  career,  and  is 
not  thoroughly  initiated  without."  At  the 
time  of  the  Peace  Jubilee,  he  writes :  "  It 
is  a  terrible  week  in  Boston.  The  Jubilee 
is  going  on  with  flash  and  bang  all  the 
time.  It's  wonderful  what  a  row  this 
Jubilee  is  making.  I  like  to  see  a  crowd, 
and  expect  to  enjoy  this  very  much,  but 
it  is  all  very  funny  and  sensational  —  and 
the  primness  and  classicism  of  Boston 
turns  up  its  stiff  nose  at  it." 

When  the  new  rector  first  came  to  Bos- 
ton, he  took  rooms  at  34  Mt.  Vernon  Street, 
but  because  of  scanty  sunlight  he  soon 
transferred  himself  to  the  Hotel  Kempton, 
on  Berkeley  Street,  where  he  entertained 
an  increasing  host  of  friends. 

S59 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

For  some  time  before  this  (1872)  there 
had  been  thought  of  a  new  and  larger 
Trinity.  Under  date  of  June  11th  we 
find  the  preacher  writing:  "We  have 
chosen  Richardson,  of  New  York,  for  our 
church  architect  —  the  best  of  all  competi- 
tors by  all  means.  He  will  give  us  some- 
thing strong  and  good."  So  when  the 
church  on  Summer  Street  was  well-nigh 
destroyed  in  the  Boston  fire,  the  catastro- 
phe was  hardly  so  appalling  as  it  would 
otherwise  have  been.  But  to  Trinity's 
rector  it  was  none  the  less  a  good  deal 
of  a  blow,  as  we  see  from  his  letters  of 
that  period :  "  The  fire  began  about  eight 
o'clock  Saturday  evening,"  he  wrote  to  a 
friend,  November  12,  1872,  "  and  hour 
after  hour  it  went  on  growing  worse  and 
worse.  Street  after  street  went  like  paper. 
There  were  sights  so  splendid  and  awful 
as  I  never  dreamed  of,  and  now  the  desola- 
360 


OLD    TRINITY    CHURCH,    SUMMER    STREET,    BOSTON, 
AFTER    THE    GREAT    BOSTON    FIRE 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

tion  is  bewildering.  There  was  hard  work 
enough  to  do  all  night,  and  though  much 
was  lost,  something  was  saved.  Old  Trinity 
seemed  safe  all  night,  but  toward  morning 
the  fire  swept  into  her  rear,  and  there  was 
no  chance.  She  went  at  four  in  the  morn- 
ing. I  saw  her  well  afire,  inside  and  out, 
carried  off  some  books  and  robes,  and  left 
her.  She  went  majestically,  and  her  great 
tower  stands  now  as  solid  as  ever,  a  most 
picturesque  and  stately  ruin.  She  died  in 
dignity.  I  did  not  know  how  much  I  liked 
the  great  gloomy  old  thing  till  I  saw  her 
windows  bursting  and  the  flame  running 
along  the  old  high  pews. 

"  I  feel  that  it  was  better  for  the  church 
to  go  so  than  to  be  torn  down  stone  by 
stone.  Of  course,  our  immediate  incon- 
venience is  great,  and  we  shall  live  in  much 
discomfort  for  the  next  two  years.  We 
have  engaged  the  Lowell  Institute,  a  lec- 

361 


OLD  XEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

ture-hall  that  seats  a  thousand  people,  and 
shall  begin  service  there  next  Sunday." 
And  according  to  the  journals  of  the  day 
his  sermon  in  Huntington  Hall  the  follow- 
ing Sabbath  was  full  of  an  onward  and 
upward  sweep,  of  life  through  death  —  the 
lesson  of  the  fire. 

The  erection  of  the  new  Trinity  Church 
was  a  matter  very  near  Brooks's  heart. 
During  his  next  few  summer  vacations 
abroad  his  thoughts  hovered  constantly 
over  the  work  that  was  to  result  in  the 
noble  edifice  on  Copley  Square  with  which 
his  name  must  be  forever  linked.  To  Mr. 
Robert  Treat  Paine,  one  of  his  letters  about 
this  time  confides  his  intense  interest  in 
the  work: 

"TouEs,  France,  Aug.  4,  1874. 
"  Dear    Bob  :  —  And    how's    the    new 
church  ?     I  dreamed  of  it  when  I  wrote 
362 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

to  you  from  London,  and  now  I  dream 
of  it  again,  slowly  rising,  course  on  course. 
I  shouldn't  wonder  if  the  robing-room  were 
done  up  to  the  eaves,  but  I  would  give 
much  to  step  out  of  the  hotel  and  look  in 
the  gorgeous  moonlight  at  that  blessed  lot 
on  the  Back  Bay." 

And  again,  "  How  many  things  I  have 
coveted  for  the  new  church.  There  was  a 
big  mosaic  at  Salviati's  that  would  glorify 
our  chapel." 

It  is  probable  that  the  supreme  beauty 
of  Trinity  Church  is  due  very  largely 
to  this  constant  thought  of  its  rector  con- 
cerning it.  Mr.  Brooks  was  not  an  archi- 
tect, but  he  had  travelled  much  and  made 
himself  very  familiar  with  historic 
churches  in  the  countries  he  had  visited. 
His  desire  to  combine  with  whatever 
should  have  place  in  a  Protestant  church 

363 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAA^D  CHURCHES 

all  that  was  of  human  and  enduring  sig- 
nificance in  the  earlier  methods  of  Chris- 
tian architecture  resulted  in  the  imposing 
structure  that  marks  the  highest  attain- 
ment of  American  church  architecture.  In- 
side as  well  as  out  the  endeavour  was  to 
secure  the  best  our  country  could  produce. 
Decorated  by  artists,  as  distinguished  from 
artisans,  the  church  was  indeed  a  noble 
whole  when,  February  9,  1877,  it  was 
consecrated  by  the  Bishop  of  the  Diocese. 
In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Paine  written  the  day 
after  the  consecration,  Mr.  Brooks  ex- 
pressed with  exquisite  tenderness  his  feel- 
ing for  the  new  Trinity :  ''I  wish  I  could 
tell  you,  my  dear  Bob,  something  of  what 
yesterday  was  to  me,  and  of  how  my  deep 
gratitude  and  love  to  you  mingled  with 
the  feeling  of  every  hour.  May  God  bless 
you,  is  all  that  I  can  say.  The  church 
would  not  be  standing  there,  the  beautiful 
364' 


OLD   NEW  EI^GLAND   CHURCHES 

and  stately  thing  that  it  is,  except  for  your 
tireless  devotion.  .  .  .  Many,  many  happy 
years  are  before  us  if  God  wills,  and  when 
we  leave  the  great  dear  thing  to  those  that 
come  after  us,  we  shall  be  near  one  another, 
I  am  sure,  in  the  better  life.  .  .  .  P.  B." 

The  rector  of  the  new  church  had  now 
returned  to  Boston  to  live  in  a  fashion 
befitting  his  station.  His  father  and 
mother  had  given  up  their  house  on  Han- 
cock Street,  and  had  gone  to  North  An- 
dover  to  reside  in  the  old  Phillips  home- 
stead, where  they  had  been  married  fifty- 
four  years  before.  Their  son  had  tried 
hard  to  persuade  them  to  stay  with  him, 
but  they  preferred  their  own  home,  and 
he  himself  now  set  up  housekeeping  at 
175  Marlborough  Street,  taking  into  his 
employment  the  servants  who  had  lived 
with  his  mother. 

The  next  summer  we  find  him  at  a  house 

365 


OLD  IS^EW   ENGLAIsTD   CHURCHES 

in  Hingham,  from  which  quiet  little  town 
he  goes  to  Boston  every  Sunday  to  preach. 
''  I  never  had  such  a  profoundly  quiet 
summer  as  I  am  having  now,"  he  writes 
to  a  friend.  "  I  am  here  in  a  queer  little 
cottage  on  an  obscure  back  bay  of  Boston 
harbour,  where  there  is  nothing  to  do,  or, 
at  least,  where  I  do  nothing,  no  sailing, 
no  fishing,  no  riding,  no  walking.  Noth- 
ing in  the  world  but  plenty  of  books  and 
time  and  tobacco." 

Phillips  Brooks's  first  call  to  a  bishopric 
came  when  he  was  fifty.  His  former  home, 
Philadelphia,  then  did  its  best  to  win 
him  back  in  this  higher  capacity,  but  he 
would  not  listen  to  the  plea.  His  love  for 
Boston  seems  indeed  to  have  so  grown  with 
his  growth  that  the  thought  of  leaving  the 
place  where  the  strong  work  of  his  young 
manhood  had  been  put  in  was  positively 
painful  to  him.  From  California  he  writes 
366 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

Mr.  Paine,  under  date  of  June  1,  1886: 
"...  I  have  had  a  lot  of  correspondence 
about  that  episcopate  in  Pennsylvania. 
There  was  no  moment  when  I  thought  of 
going.  How  could  I,  so  long  as  I  dared 
to  believe  that  you  all  still  wanted  me  to 
stay  in  Boston  ?  Will  you  tell  me  honestly 
and  truly  and  like  a  friend  when  you 
think  it  is  best  for  me  to  go  away  ?  "  Ere 
long,  however,  came  the  call  to  be  Bishop 
of  Massachusetts,  a  call  not  to  be  gainsaid. 
All  the  important  newspapers  had  for  a 
long  time  been  naming  Mr.  Brooks  in  this 
capacity,  and  again  and  again  it  was  said 
that  only  his  election  could  put  the  Epis- 
copal Church  where  it  should  be  in  New 
England  life. 

The  convention  met  on  the  twenty-ninth 
of  April.  Mr.  Brooks  was  not  present,  but 
the  moment  the  vote  had  been  taken  there 
was  a  rush  from  the  hall  where  the  con- 

367 


OLD  Ts^EW  EXGLAXD   CHUECHES 

vention  was  sitting  to  the  study  of  the 
Trinity  Church  rectory,  on  Clarendon 
Street,  to  tell  him  the  news.  He  heard  it, 
however,  without  elation.  For  he  realized 
that  this  was  the  beginning  of  the  end.  His 
letters  no  longer  have  the  joyous  note  of 
boyishness.  Being  a  bishop  seems  from 
the  first  to  have  weighed  upon  his  spirits. 
Meanwhile,  however,  all  the  world  sent 
congratulations;  he  was  hailed  as  bishop, 
not  only  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
Church,  but  of  Massachusetts.  A  letter 
from  James  Kussell  Lowell  shows  well  the 
feeling: 

"Dear  Doctoe  Beooks:  —  Though  I 
do  not  belong  to  the  flock  which  will 
be  guided  by  your  crook,  I  cannot  help 
writing  a  line  to  say  how  proud  I  am  of 
our  bishop.     Faithfully  yours, 

"  J.  E.  Lowell." 
368 


t    a 


a 

'i  2 

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i 


OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  CHURCHES 

That  the  newly  chosen  bishop  looked 
forward  with  no  little  dread  to  the  new 
life  one  soon  sees  in  his  letters.  To  Mr, 
Paine  he  writes  from  North  Andover, 
August  17,  1891:  "My  dear  Bob 
Paine :  —  There  are  six  weeks  before  the 
awful  day  comes  which  sends  me  bishoping 
to  the  far  confines  of  the  State.  I  dread 
the  pageant  of  that  day,  but  it  will  soon 
be  over."  And  to  Mr.  Newton,  rector  of 
the  church  at  Pittsfield :  "It  will  break 
the  shock  a  little  to  have  one  of  my  earliest 
visits  to  your  church,  and  will  let  me  feel 
as  if  I  had  not  wholly  said  good-bye  to 
the  old  life.  You  don't  know  how  I  cling 
to  it." 

The  consecration  of  Bishop  Brooks, 
October  14,  1891,  was  a  State  and  civic 
as  well  as  an  ecclesiastical  event.  Long 
before  the  hour  of  service  Copley  Square 
was  crowded  with  people  anxious  to  share 

369 


OLD  NEW   EXGLAJs^D   CHURCHES 

in  some  measure  in  the  great  affair.  Only 
on  the  sad  day  of  his  funeral,  a  little  over 
two  years  later,  did  a  larger  throng  ever 
gather  in  that  Boston  square. 

The  end  came  quickly.  A  short  two 
years  of  full  life  as  Bishop  of  Massachu- 
setts, and  then  a  cold,  a  brief  illness,  and 
the  passing  of  his  spirit.  His  last  public 
address  was  at  the  Woodland  Park  Hotel, 
Newton,  on  the  occasion  of  a  choir  festival. 
Five  days  after  he  was  dead.  The  funeral 
was  held,  of  course,  in  the  Trinity  he  had 
helped  to  build  and  had  loved  as  few  men 
love  anything.  From  eight  o'clock  people 
of  all  classes  thronged  the  church  to  look 
for  the  last  time  upon  his  peaceful  face. 
The  whole  city  was  in  mourning.  The 
stock  exchange  and  all  the  shops  were 
closed.  When  the  service  within  the  church 
was  over  another  was  said  in  the  square 
for  the  vast  crowd  of  people  who  com- 
370 


OLD  NEW   ENGLATs^D   CHUKCHES 

pletely  filled  the  open  space.  Han'^ard  men 
then  bore  the  body  to  the  hearse,  and  the 
procession  to  Mt.  Auburn  by  way  of  the 
bishop's  Alma  Mater  began. 

Of  memorials  to  Massachusetts's  bishop 
there  are  many  in  and  about  Boston,  but 
the  recent  announcement  that  the  great 
St.  Gaudens  statue  of  the  preacher  is  to 
be  architecturally  connected  with  Trinity 
Church  proves  that  this  $100,000  statue, 
the  funds  for  which  were  given  by  all 
the  people  of  the  country,  will  be  his  final 
and  supreme  memorial.  And  fittingly. 
For  above  and  beyond  all  the  other  things 
that  Phillips  Brooks  was,  he  was  rector 
of  Trinity,  —  Preacher  to  the  People  in 
that  house  of  God  he  had  in  so  true  and 
high  a  sense  builded  for  Boston. 

THE    END. 

371 


INDEX 


Adams,   Abigail,   167,   206. 

Adams,  John,  204,  206,  274. 

Adams,   John  Quincy,  175,   182,  201,  206. 

Allen,  A.  V.  G.,  ix. 

Anbury,   Ensign,  237. 

Ancient  and  Honourable  Artillery  Company,  359. 

Anthology  Club,  351. 

Appleton,  Doctor,  230. 

Apthorp,  Charles,  213. 

Apthorp,  East,  210,  212,  213,  221,  223,  224,  225. 

Apthorp.  James,  212. 

Atkinson.  Col.  Theodore,  84,  88. 

Atlantic  Monthly,  358. 

Baldwin,   Ruth.  24. 

Barlow.  Joel.  23,  25,  26,  34,  38. 

Batchelder,   Samuel  P.,  208. 

Bay  Psalm  Book.  138,  160. 

Bearcroft,   Rev.   Doctor,   209. 

Bellanger,  313. 

Berkeley,   Bishop,   215. 

Bernard,  Sir  Francis,  216,  226. 

Bigelow,  Mr.,  342. 

'•  Bishop's  Palace,"  220,  227,  229. 

Blshop.stoke,  England,  107. 

Blake  Bell  Company,  94. 

Bliss.  Julia,  303. 

Borland,  John,  220. 

Boston  Athenaeum,  352. 

Boston  Chrnntcle,  33. 

Bowdoln  College,  325. 

Bradstreet.   Governor,   108. 

Brnintree.  170.  205. 

Brattle  organ,  95. 

Brattle,  Thomas,  95, 

373 


INDEX 


Brewster.   Charles,   86.   89. 

Bristol,  The  Bishop  of,  222. 

Brooks,  Phillips,  .347. 

Brown,  John.  324,  327,  331,  335,  339. 

Brown,  Lieut.  Richard,  236,  237. 

Brown,  Mrs.  John,  343. 

Brown,  Oliver,  329. 

Brown,  Salmon.  334. 

Browne,  Rev.  Arthur,  79,  82,  83,  86,  87,  97. 

Buckminster,   Rev.   Joseph,  17,   19,  21,  22.  25,  39.  40. 

Hunkers  Hill.   1S6. 

Burgoyne,  229,  235. 

Burlington.  Vt.,  323,  326,  346. 

Burns,  Anthony,  326. 

Burr,  Rev.  Aaron,  71. 

Burr,  Aaron,  19,  44.  74,  75. 

Burroughs,   Dr.   Charles,  95. 

Byles,   Rev.   Mather.   243,   245,  249,   255. 

Byles,   Mather,   Jr.,   251. 

Byles,   The   Misses,   252. 

Calicott,  Richard.   142. 

Caner,  Doctor,  208. 

Carroll,  Bishop.  275. 

Channing,   Doctor,   280. 

Charlestown.  Va.,  340. 

Cheekily,   128. 

Chester.  Capt.  John,  229. 

Cheverus.   Bishop.   261.   264.   274,   276,   279.   2S2,   291. 

Christ  Church,   Boston.   214,   251. 

Christ  Church,   Braintree.   214. 

Christ  Church.  Cambridge,   208,  242. 

Chromotype,  313. 

Church.  Doctor,  192. 

Clark,  Bishop,  352. 

Concord.  Mass..  60. 

Coolidge.  Templeman.  82. 

Court  of  St.  James.  204. 

Coventry   Hall,   107. 

Cromwell,    157. 

Custis.   Mrs..   000. 

Dall,  Mrs.  Caroline  H.,   26.  27,  28,  29,  39. 

Damariscotta    Mills.    260. 

D'Angoulfime,  Duchess.  294. 

Dante,  46,  54. 

Danvers,  29,  30,  33. 

Davenport,  Rev.  Addington,  349. 

Deerfield,   Mass.,   283. 

Dennlson,  Mrs.,   113. 

Doane,   Doctor,   352. 

Dwight.    President,    23. 

IDastman,  Bishop.  352. 

East  Pepperell,  Mass..  55, 


374t 


IXDEX 


East  Windsor,  Conn.,  46,  56. 

Edwards.  Esther,  58.  62,  70,  75.  76. 

Edwards,  Rev.  Jonathan,  20,  45,  70,  76,  77. 

Edwards,  Pierrepont,   19,   36,  44. 

Eliot,  John,  130,  131,  133,  150,  166. 

Ely,  Deacon  Nathaniel,  286,  288,  291,  301. 

Emerson,  Rev.  Joseph,  55. 

Emigrant  Aid  Company,  330. 

Evans,  Elizabeth  E.,  316. 

Fagnanl,  Chevalier,  317. 

Fairfield,  Conn.,  72. 

Faneuil,  Peter.  349. 

Fiske,  Samuel,  62. 

Fletcher,  Alice,  139. 

Foster,  Mrs.  Hannah,  13. 

Francis,  Converse,  150. 

Franklin,   Doctor,   191,   248,   252. 

Frederick  the  Great,   337. 

Gardiner,  John  Sylvester,  351. 

Gates,  Mrs.,  232. 

Genet,  Citizen,  317. 

Glbbs,  Mrs.,  127. 

Grafton,  James,  162. 

"  Great  Awakening  "  at  Northampton,  51.  54. 

Green  Bay,  Wisconsin.  295,  304,  308,  310. 

Griswold,  i?ishop,  352. 

Groton,   Mass.,   57. 

Hale.   Rev.   Enoch.  302. 

Hanson.   Rev.  John  H..  294.  313,  321. 

Harper's  Ferry,  334,  336,  339. 

Harrison.  Peter.  215. 

Hartford.   12,    14,   16,  30 ;    Athenaeum,   35 ;    Dancing 

Assembly.   16. 
Hawthorne,  12,  31,  103. 
Higginson.  T.  W.,  335. 
Hill,  Mrs.  Henry.  28.  30. 
Hilton.  Martha.  80.  81,  82. 
Hoar,  Doctor,   108. 
Hogansburg,  N.  Y..  321. 
Hollis  Street  Church,  243. 
Hollis  Street  Theatre,  243. 
Holmes.  Oliver  Wendell,  347. 
Holy  Cross  Cathedral,  261. 
Hooper,  Rev.  Wm.,  349. 
Hopkins.  Doctor.  352. 
Hoppin,   Rev.   Nicholas,  240. 
Hovey,  Rev.  Henry  B.,  88. 
Howe,  Rev.  Joseph,  16,  28. 
Huen-Dubourg,  J.,  270. 
Hull,  Captain  John,   102,   106. 
Hull,  Hannah,  108,  111. 
Hutchinson,  Governor,  100,  226. 


375 


II^DEX 


Hutchinson,  Judge  Foster,  213. 

Hutchinson,  Mrs.,  137. 

Inman,  Ralph,   212. 

Jardin,  Madame  de,  295. 

Jolnville,  Prince  de,  304,  307,  310,  315. 

Kansas-Nebraska  Bill,  329. 

Kllllngly,  Conn.,  28,  29. 

King  William  III.,  214. 

King's  Chapel,  96,   208,  215,  348. 

Kingston,  N.  H.,  228. 

Kittery,  Me.,  21,  9:1 

Lafayette,  General,  26. 

Lake,   Bishop,   14. 

Lancaster,   Mass.,  57. 

Laud,  Archbishop,  132. 

Lawrence,  331. 

Lee,  Col.  Robert,  339. 

Lee,  Joseph,  212.  230. 

Leonard,  Rev.  Mr.,  235. 

Longfellow,  81. 

Longmeadow,   283. 

Louis  XVL,  272,  308,  310,  314. 

Louis  XVI L,  28.^>.  293,  294,  310,  314. 

Louis  XVIII.,  277,  294. 

Loulsburg  Expedition,  283. 

Lowell,  James  Russell,  368. 

Lyon,  The  good  ship,  132. 

Mackinac,  306. 

Marie  Antoinette,  296. 

Mason.  Col.  John,  89. 

Mather,  Cotton,  131,  143. 

Matignon.  Abb6,  264,  276. 

Mayhew,  Dr.  Jonathan,  221,  223. 

Mercer.   Doctor,  352. 

Mico.   Madam,   122. 

Moffatt.  Miss,  90. 

Montauban,  277. 

Mountford,  Ann,  134. 

Mt.  Auburn,  371. 

Muller,  M.,  portrait  painter,  317. 

Nasiug,  130. 

Natlck,   154,  158. 

Newbury.  107. 

New  Haven,  24. 

New  London,'  Conn.,  251. 

Newport,  R.  I.,  215. 

Newton,  Rev.  Mr.,  369. 

Nonantum,  143,  151,  152. 

North  Church.  Portsmouth.  N.  H.,  21. 

Northampton,  Mass.,  49,  50. 

North  Elba,  328,  329,  333.  342. 

Norton,  Rev.  Jobo,  100,  169. 

376 


INDEX 


Norwich,  Conn.,  16. 

Ogden,  Mr.,  91. 

Ogden,  Thomas,  304. 

Old   South  Meeting-House,  99. 

Old  Trinity,  352,  361. 

Oliver,   General,   280. 

Oliver,  Thomas,  212,  227. 

Osawatomie,  334. 

Paine,  Robert  Treat,  362,  364,  367,  369. 

Palfrey,  Col.  Wm.,  230,  231. 

Parker,  Rev.  Dr.,  238,  350. 

Parkman,  Francis,  325. 

Peabody  burying-ground,  12,  32,  42. 

Peace  Jubilee,   359. 

Pemberton,  Rev.  Ebenezer,  110. 

Pepperell,  Sir  William,  60,  93. 

Peterboro,  N.  Y.,  334. 

Phillips,  Wendell,  343. 

Phips,  David,  212. 

Pierpont,    Rev.    John,    256. 

Pierrepont,  Sarah,  44. 

Pope,  249. 

Portsmouth,  N.  H.,  21. 

Pottawatomie  Creek,  331. 

Potter,   Bishop,  352. 

Price,  Rev.  Roger,  349. 

Princeton,  75. 

Prynne,  Hester,  31. 

Putnam,  General,  229. 

Putnam's  Magazine,  294,  315. 

Quincy  Daughters  of  the  Revolution,   170. 

Quincy  Historical  Society,  174. 

Quincy,  Mrs.  John,  169. 

Queen  Caroline,  92. 

Queen's  Chapel,  87.  89.  91. 

Redpath  Lecture  Bureau,  357. 

Revere.  Paul,  93. 

Richardson,  architect,  360. 

Richardson,  13. 

"  Romance  of  Old   New   England   Rooftrees,"   Ix.,   81, 

101,  137,  192,  215,  235,  283. 
Rousselet,  Nicholas,  89. 
Rutland,  Mass.,  18. 
Sanborn,   Prank,   328,   3.34. 
"  Sandford,   Major,"  36. 
Saratoga,  229. 
"  Scarlet  Letter,"  12. 
Second  Church,  Hartford,  Conn.,  14,  17. 
Serjeant,  Rev.  Winwood.  225,  226,  227,  228. 
Sewall,  Judge  Samuel,   101. 
Sewall,  Rev.  Joseph,   107,  110,   114,  243. 
Smith,  Gerrltt,  334. 


577 


INDEX 


Smith,    Dr.    John   Cotton.    352. 

Smith,  Kev.  William,   173,  206. 

Springfield.  Mass..  283. 

St.  Andrew's  Church,   Scituate,  214. 

St.  Gaudens.  371. 

St.   John's  Churth.   Portsmouth,  N.  H.,  79.  93,  95. 

St.   Michael's  Church,   Marblehead,   214. 

St.  Patrick's  Church.  2«0. 

St.  Paul's  Church.  Newburyport,  96,  214. 

St.  Peter's  Church.  Salem.  214. 

St.  Thomas's  Church.  Taunton.  214. 

Stael.  Madame  de,  150. 

Stanley,  Dean,   130. 

Stanley,   William,   17. 

Stavers  Inn,  81. 

Stevens.  Miss.  21. 

Stocicbridge,  70.  71. 

Stoddard,   Rev.   Solomon,  49. 

Storrs,   Rev.  Richard  S.,  285.  289. 

Stuart.  Lieut.  J.  E.  B..  339. 

Sullivan,  (ieneral,  91. 

Symmes,  Thomas.  326. 

Temple,  Robert,  212. 

"  The  Coquette,"   13,  37. 

"The  Lost  Prince,"  316. 

"  The  Romance  of  the  Association,"  26. 

Tieonderoga,  296. 

Tilly.   Mrs..  113. 

Trinity  Church,  Boston,  93,  214,  238.  348,   350. 

Trinity  Church.   Newport,   R.   I.,  215. 

Trinity  College,  Dublin,  80. 

Trumbull.  15. 

Vassal.  John.  212.  227. 

Vassal,  Henry,  212. 

Vergennes.  342. 

Vinton,  Doctor,  353. 

Waban,  145,  152. 

Wadsworth,  Jeremiah.  27. 

Wainwright,   Doctor,   352. 

Walter.  Dr.  Wm..  350. 

W'arren.  Doctor.  186,  189. 

W'ashington.   Col.    Lewis.    337. 

Washington.  General,  91,  230,  231,  234,  337,  351. 

Watson.  Doctor,  352. 

Wentworth.  Gov.  Benning.  80.  81. 

Wentworth.  John,  85. 

West  Congregational  Church.  Boston,  349. 

Westhampton.  Mass..  302. 

Wethersfleld,  Conn.,  55. 

Weymouth.  167. 

Whipple.  Bishop.  163. 


378 


INDEX 


Whitman,   Elizabeth    (Eliza  Wharton),   11,   13,   14,   15, 

18,   25,  26,  28.  40,  42. 
Whitman,  Rev.   Elnathan,  14. 
Wibard,  Parson,  174. 

Willard,   Colonel,   of  Lancaster,   Mass.,   57. 
Williams,   Rev.   Eleazar    (Dauphin),  x.,  285,  288,   295, 

298,  313,  315,  319. 
Williams.  Eunice,  284,  286. 
Williams,  John,  287,  300. 
Williams,  Rev.   Stephen,  283,  285. 
Williams,  Thomas,   287,  290,  296,  297,   300. 
Winslow,  138,  159. 
Winthrop.  Governor.  132. 

Winthrop,  Madame.  115,   116,  121,  123,  126. 
Woodland  Park  Hotel.  370. 
Woodstock.  215. 
Wren,  Sir  Christopher,  215. 
Yale  College,  15.  18.  46,  55. 
Young,   Rev.  Joshua,  323,  340. 


379 


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